Prince: Episode 2
by Sapadu
Summary: Even as a person might end, history goes on. The clock will always turn, and a new generation will, without fail, come to the surface. Sequel to Princess- the story about her son: Ken, the Jedi Prince.
1. Chapter 1

PRINCE

By: Sapadu

Disclaimer: Yeah, that's right- a SEQUEL to my (not-so) beloved masterpiece Princess. That being said, don't read this without first having finished up it's prequel (And leaving some comments? Please?) This one covers the life and times of her son, Ken, the Jedi Prince. Unlike Princess, this is not an entirely original piece of work- more of a "Behind the scenes" thing. Furthermore, because the original books were written for... well, kids, I'm going to be taking liberties, pretending that the books were more... um... censored and edited versions of "What really happened." Someone once described them as being "Star Wars Lite"- no cursing, blood or gore, mild sci-fi intensity but not really action, and everything politically correct. And, of course, the fun onomatopoeias that kids could sound out.

Oh, yeah, this is a disclaimer... um, the original "Jedi Prince" series was written by Paul and Hollace Davids. Not me. And this is not being made for profit. Just fun. And maybe some practice because now, I have horrible grammar habits. Don't sue.

Also, if you didn't like the whole chapters beginning with definitions thing I did in Princess... don't worry, I won't be doing that with this one. I ran out of words.

Rating: R. The adults in this story have... temper issues. Including Skywalker. Especially Solo. So, there will be language (and LOTS of it) vulgarity, crude stuff, some sexual references, and violence, blood, and yummy, yummy gore.

Chapter 1: Can't Let it Go

_"I was no angel and you were no sin, but somehow, I can't let it go."_

The quiet of the rainforest morning on Yavin Four was broken by the noise of a lightsaber igniting and the sounds of a battle echoing from the inside of a nearby cave.

Mehgan Retaw held her lightsaber at the ready, eyes sharply trained on her opponent, whom was making absolutely no move to defend himself, nor attack, yet seemed to have outwitted her at every turn. It could hardly be called a fight, but Mehgan knew there was something wrong with this man. He wore a completely covering cloak of black, wide sleeves for his arms that covered his hands, a trail that covered his feet, and a high, wide collar that hid half his face. The rest was covered by the flat hat that only left a peek between his cloak and the brim, enough for him to see out of, and enough for Mehgan to see his eyes, which glowed red. Unlike the eyes of a Sith, however, his were pure crimson, instead of yellow, and two rings of pure black circled the pupil, cutting through the iris.

Mehgan, herself, was sporting long gashes in her arms and legs, one eye bruised, and a twisted ankle, but still stood her ground. She wasn't sure how she'd become injured, as the man had done nothing to touch her, or even move, but it was clear that he was doing SOMETHING.

"I will ask you once more- where did you take the child?" The man asked. There was no doubt who he meant- Mehgan had only cared for two children, and one had grown up, had a child of her own, and died. The only option was that child, whom she had entrusted to Mehgan. Why this man cared, however, was a different story. Mehgan panted for breath, before spitting out a phrase that her old padawan had taught her.

"Go to Hell."

The man did not say nor do anything in reaction, but Mehgan suddenly felt something painful shoot through her hand, right where her wrist connected the hand and arm together. It was as though someone had put a pole right through it as blood flowed freely but no other real damage was evident. With a snarl, Mehgan charged the man, bringing her lightsaber down, only to see that it went right through the man.

"Disappointing, Master Retaw. You should know better." The man scolded, but Mehgan was back on her feet, analyzing the situation. After a brief moment of consideration, Mehgan opened her eyes again and swiftly slashed open her leg.

Almost as though it had never been there, the cave faded away and Mehgan found herself facing the man in a thicket of the forest. She was uninjured, except for her leg, but the man under his cloak sighed a little, one hand unzipping his cloak from the inside, opening the collar as his hand lifted from the point to remove the hat.

"So, you saw through it. Interesting." He said. Mehgan stopped short, staring at the man in shock. His face was revealed to be marble white, thin, and hairless, with lines under his eyes, almost like scars. while his hair was black, black as ink and a venomous snake. His bangs hung framing his face, forehead only bare from hair because of the bandages that went around it, but seemed to serve no medical purpose. What hair was on the back of his head was cropped close to his scalp, leaving only the long, stringy bangs.

But he was impossible to not recognize.

"Dalhouise..." Mehgan breathed. The strange red eyes blinked, once, then twice. Before Mehgan had time to react, projectiles shot out of the trees, as though they had suddenly changed into cannons. Mehgan dodged, but the things- they weren't bullets from a blaster, but something more solid and movable- seemed to follow her, until they connected. While they didn't burn like blaster bolts, they didn't hit and cause damage either- it seemed as though they attached themselves to her body wherever they struck and sank into her skin, molding themselves into her. Mehgan got back to her feet, but Dalhouise had disappeared.

"Always so rash were you." Said a familiar voice that Mehgan could have sworn she'd never hear again, "Never thinking about consequences- always acted as though there would be no afterwards, you did." There, protruding out of Mehgan's arm, she could see Master Yoda's head and body slowly emerging, but still a part of her, still under her skin.

"It was always because you thought with your sentiment- you never thought things through calmly, never kept your distance... you were so busy getting attached to everyone you damn well pleased that you never thought about them." Mehgan felt her shoulder twist and warp before she turned her head enough to see Master Windu's head emerging from the cloth of her brown robe, "That's a disappointment, coming from you."

Another damn illusion. But how the hell was he doing it? It felt so real- her skin was actually stretching and her flesh moving to create these new appendages... so it couldn't JUST be an illusion- there had to be something else.

"You were too weak to save anyone. Even if you had them in your arms, you just let that person be taken from you. Even your own daughter, you couldn't stop her from being cooked in front of you before she even hatched." There was that same pushing, bulging sensation around her knee and Mehgan looked down in time to see a face pressing out of her knee- a nose and two eyes, with two beads on the bridge of the nose, like flesh colored pearls.

"D-Depa..." Mehgan stammered, but her own hand came up and put itself around her neck. Glancing toward it, a pair of gray eyes was emerging, the fingers becoming a tooth-lined mouth.

"It's always you who survives. Why are you so much better than any of us? Why should you get to live any longer than we did?" Kendalina's voice came snarling through the air in its entirety and wholly real anger and spite. A new voice was added, as something wormed its way out of the pouch between her breasts.

"Why were you not strong enough? You had always said you could do anything if it was for her- why could you not save her? Why could you not save anyone?" Instead of seeing a face, Mehgan saw a shag of white hair poke out and a single green eye stare up at her.

Mehgan shut her eyes as tightly as she could and the images still burned in her mind, refusing to fade as the voices grew louder, almost as though they were inside of her instead of pounding on her eardrums.

And then, it occurred to Mehgan. She took a deep breath and calmed, letting the Force flow through her, letting it fill her with itself, allowing her mind to leave her body for the briefest of moments. She looked down and could see herself and Dalhouise both standing perfectly still. She was completely rigid, while Dalhouise was still staring at her with those strange red eyes. More, though, she could see herself in her mind- the emergence of the Masters and friends long past had, indeed, been an illusion, but one that played on all of her senses, working inside her mind to the point that couldn't discern reality from imagined.

Mehgan calmed herself even further, pouring her concentration into the Force, and pushing back the illusion, out of her mind and forcing it back into Dalhouise. To be precise, she went too far, pushing into Dalhouise's mind and seeing into it for herself.

_"The adults won't tell anybody this, but they don't like an outsider being so interfering with family matters."_

_"Now, Dalhouise, take good care of that little sister of yours- you two only have each other, so you have to love each other and protect each other. You're different from the other children in this house."_

_"You want your sister to live... don't you?"_

_"The Jedi escaped with her! The girl is now gone, and you let them get away! I should curse you to the ninth circle of Hell!"_

_"You were in love with Master Retaw."_

_"Prisoner, strip."_

_"Son, the importance of these eyes is that only the heir to the clan whom **бог** choses to inherit them will receive them. And the last heir **бог **deemed appropriate to bestow the eyes was five generations ago. Learn to use them, and use them well. They are our deadliest weapon."_

_Blood. Blood everywhere. Nothing but blood. No end, no beginning, no telling where it even came from. Just there._

Mehgan pulled back enough that she staggered a few steps backward, but it had been enough. Enough that she'd understood, and it had made her sick.

"What is it that you want, Dalhouise?" Mehgan asked, glaring at him. Dalhouise's gaze remained impassive as he stared back at her.

"I have no intention of causing anyone harm- My mission is to find the child and you are simply the only person who has any information on this matter." Dalhouise replied, curtly, "Keep in mind that I have no need to fight with anyone on this assignment, but I am not above using violence, as you just saw."

Mehgan scowled.

"You killed off your entire family and murdered your sister- do you REALLY think I'm just going to hand her son to you?" She snapped. Dalhouise's expression did not change, nor did the tone of his voice when he spoke again.

"The boy will not be harmed." He stated, simply. There was no annoyance, nor attempt at persuasion in his voice. He was simply putting forth a fact. That somehow made Mehgan even more fiercely determined to stand in his way.

"The hell he won't." She snapped, "Even if YOU don't do anything to harm him, somewhere down the line, it WILL happen." Dalhouise continued to stare at her with those red, ring-filled eyes, impassively, "I made a promise. I intend to keep it. Even if it costs me my life."

Dalhouise continued to watch her for a moment, before the hat went back on his head.

"Well, there is no deadline to this mission. We still have time." Dalhouise shrugged, carelessly, "I know at least which planet the boy is on. Sooner or later, I'll either find him myself, or you'll give me a clue." Dalhouise turned to walk away, still impassive and infuriatingly uncaring.

Mehgan watched him stalk away, almost disappointed- of all things that he was angry about, he felt jealous! Jealous that she cared for his sister more than himself, and in an attempt to change that, he'd destroyed his entire clan. And for what? Now, he was little better than the Sith who had betrayed and destroyed the Order, at least as far as Mehgan could see. He couldn't possibly think that this was impressing her.

"What exactly is it you expect to gain, Dalhouise Zuka?" He stopped at the mention of his name. Mehgan stood straight and tall, glaring at his back as though she could pierce him with her gaze, "What is it that you want out of this? Do you think that this is the solution, or do you have some other motive?" Well, there was a stupid question, if Mehgan had ever asked one. There was always a different motive- money, power, influence, security, secrets, secrecy, something along those lines. What else could Dalhouise be after?

He paused. For a moment, Mehgan wondered- suppose he was being watched. This might just be an act the way that those two people had pretended during their difficult times. Just a ploy to disguise something. But how was she supposed to decode any message he might give her?

"You'd probably be a good lay." Dalhouise finally said, still not looking back.

O-kay... that was probably code for 'I've become an unmitigated asshole like my father.' Mehgan allowed herself a disgusted snort.

"You were such a cute kid- what went wrong?" She snapped, irritably. It seemed to spark something in Dalhouise, because Mehgan just barely had time to bring up her lightsaber. Dalhouise had spun and thrown something at her, so quickly that her eye couldn't follow it. Only as her lightsaber batted it away did Mehgan see a glowing blue, diamond-shaped dagger. It ricocheted off her blade, undamaged, before flying clear through a tree trunk and leaving a perfectly circular hole, large enough for Mehgan to see the blade embedded into a rock on the other side.

Dalhouise's crimson eyes were glaring at her, almost hatefully, except somehow, not, before he resumed his calm stance.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, the twins said they wanted Toh-Toh to be home for their fourth birthday. I have no intention of delaying this for the likes of you."

And with that, Dalhouise lifted two fingers to his chin and disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving Mehgan staring at the spot he'd been standing and cursing over her inability to fight back. With a sigh, she returned to her scavenging for food, all the while muttering to herself,

"You better be taking care of him, DJ-88."

* * *

Deep below the surface, in the Lost City of the Jedi, the little three-year-old that Dalhouise had been searching for was completely unaware that his life or existence were in danger. In fact, he was completely unaware there were any troubles in the galaxy at all, besides his own, the chief of which was that he was hungry, Dee-Jay was nowhere around to feed him, and he was still too short to reach the grain meal.

The first solution was obvious- make a stack of things to climb up and get the grain meal down from the shelf. Ken had some difficulty finding things he could drag over and stack, but did manage to make a tower of some sort, mostly out of pillows and a few books.

Still, it was something he could climb on, and Ken was proud of himself for thinking it up. It was only once he was at the very top on what had to be the flattest pillow in the galaxy that he realized he was still nowhere near close to reaching his breakfast. The shelf it was on was still too high, even with his tower to lift him closer to it.

The second solution would be to try and shake the shelf until the grain meal came down- after all, SOMETHING had to be up there. Maybe it would push the grain meal off and down to him.

Frustrated, Ken took hold of the bottom shelf as best he could and tried to pull. The shelf didn't budge. Ken rocked, trying to pull the shelf with him, but it remained firmly in place, welded to the floor and wall. Ken even tried kicking the shelf, which only gave him a bruised toe, prompting him to sit down and cry for a few minutes before he tried shaking the shelf again. There was a rattling above and Ken could see the box of grain meal shaking, edging away from the shelf.

Oh, he got it- the grain meal was just sleeping. Now it was awake and ready for breakfast too. Ken took another shake at the shelf, rewarded for his efforts when the box tipped and fell down to the floor, opening and spilling.

Mission accomplished. Now, time to eat. Ken peered down at the grain meal on the floor, fingers clinging to the edge of the pillow he was on, before it occurred to him... he was up HERE, the grain meal was down THERE. The grain meal was on the floor, and he was on a tower a foot up. How was he supposed to get down? Ken hadn't thought about that...

"DEE-JAY!" Ken screamed, pulling his injured foot closer and clinging to it. As there was no sound of Dee-Jays familiar footsteps, Ken shouted again, then started to panic. What if Dee-Jay was mad for some reason? Or what if he couldn't hear? Or what if Ken never saw him again? He was just going to sit up on top of this cushion for the rest of his life until he died, his toe hurt, he was scared, and to top it all off, he was still hungry.

Ken had been crying for a good two minutes when two big, metal hands lifted him off the pillows and pulled him up into a rocking motion. White. Dee-Jay. Ken stopped crying, but still sniffled as his toe continued to throb and his stomach continued to cry out for food.

"Bekfas." Ken pointed over Dee-Jay's shoulder to the spilled grain meal on the floor. Dee-Jay understood enough to seat Ken in a chair with an eating tray attached and scoop some sort of food out for him to eat. The moment that a single grain bounced and fell to the floor, however, Ken picked up another and tossed it after the first, marveling at how the grains of cereal all seemed to follow the same pattern- always down, and always bouncing on the ground.

Dee-Jay interrupted the experiment by pushing a grain of cereal into Ken's mouth, reminding him that he'd been hungry.

"Honestly, how can you dote on this boy so consistently? Our responsibility is to raise him as droids, not act like he's offspring or something." Put in a new presence- this one was from the fussy droid that was mostly responsible for cleaning up and watching Ken when Dee-Jay had to be elsewhere. Ken knew him as HC. Dee-Jay had a different name for him, but Ken didn't really care, especially not when there was cereal to be had at. He threw another grain, then put one in his mouth. HC made a frustrated noise that Ken still didn't know was called "Frustrated" before proceeding to clean up the scattered grain.

"This is normal Human child psychology. He is experimenting with gravity to see if everything will fall and bounce if he drops it, or if gravity only works SOME of the time." Dee-Jay explained, calmly setting a bottle in front of Ken. It was always an odd thing- even though Ken knew what it was, he still didn't know that it would always be the same thing. Maybe, one day, instead of this weird, oblong shape, it would be something like an hourglass, or a square.

Ken promptly picked it up, turned it upside down, and shook. Whatever was inside made noise, but nothing came out. Ken shook again, then giggling at the noise it made- it sounded like water splashing, but at the same time, it was thicker, and the resulting sound was, to Ken's ears, the height of hilarity.

HC made a displeased noise and dropped the retrieved cereal onto Ken's tray, only stopped by Dee-Jay.

"When was the floor last sterilized?" Dee-Jay asked. Ken paid no attention to them, content to pick up the retrieved cereal and throw it again, clapping his hands with delight as this one rolled after it bounced. He threw another grain, but didn't clap when it just bounced. Why didn't they all roll like that first one? Maybe he had to do something... well, he'd clapped when the other had rolled, so maybe that was it.

Ken threw another and tried clapping, but the grain simply bounced, uncaring of the experiments it was being put through.

"This morning- just a few hours ago." HC replied, irritably. Dee-Jay removed the grains that HC had just cleaned off the floor.

"During that time, Ken has been crawling over the floor- it's no longer sanitary enough for him to eat off of." Dee-Jay said, firmly. Ken paid them no attention, resorting to chewing on the nub of his bottle and more than happy to discover that he tasted milk doing so. Even as the two droids continued to bicker, Ken didn't listen, happy that he was fed. Then, the grain throwing experiment continued.

"Humans are so impractical- why cannot they just have a science module uploaded so they understand the physics of gravity right from the start? It becomes such a bother to teach them all of this." HC complained, even as he bent to continue picking up the grains.

"Then, when Ken is old enough to begin schooling, you may be the judge of how well he does. Perhaps he will learn quickly if the correct droid is responsible for his grades." Dee-Jay replied, patiently. Ken didn't listen, but continued to throw the uneaten cereal. This time, the piece he threw bounced twice, then flipped in midair, rolled, and finally spun on the floor. Ken's gray eyes grew big as he giggled in delight. Without any warning, three other pieces of cereal jumped, on their own accord, from his tray and performed the same feat. Ken giggled harder and more cereal jumped.

"Fly! Fly!" He cried, clapping his hands. HC chased after the cereal with annoyance while Dee-Jay did his best to calm the boy. It should be noted that "Doing one's best" does not necessarily mean that one succeeds. Ken continued to giggle and clap his hands, sending more cereal over the floor. HC became more irritated, until Dee-Jay eventually walked over and forcibly injected a wire to HC's circuit panel, deleting a portion of his more intense emotional programming.

"Perhaps it would be prudent to teach him to control his abilities early on." Dee-Jay conceded, as HC recovered and returned to his duties, though with less grumbling. Ken continued his experimenting, before Dee-Jay left, returning with a new robotic creation, this one about the same size and shape as the toddler who was still playing with his food.

"What is that?" HC asked, still with some mild annoyance and curiosity, but none of the hostility that Dee-Jay had removed from his program. Dee-Jay set the unit on the floor and pressed a switch. In a moment, the finned head bobbed and started to move while the bendable limbs started to mimic the motions of a child crawling, then standing up and waddling over to the other child in the room.

"Serial number 000001- a droid programmed to be similar to a Human." Dee-Jay explained, as the droid waddled over to Ken, whom promptly poked the droid in what would have been the eye, "Human brains do not develop as thoroughly, nor to their neurons connect as fully when the child is just left by itself. Company, connection, playtime, and physical touch are crucial at this stage for a child to mature properly. Besides which, Ken will need to learn how to behave as a Human. With just droids as role models, there may come the day when he must live with other Humans, and he will be nothing more than a droid in Human skin. To have a companion that will set an example for him to follow, perhaps he will have a better chance at becoming a normal child."

"Just a microchip among computers, then." HC surmised, even as the two little ones continued to study eachother. The awkward tension was broken as Ken poked the middle of the droid's forehead with two fingers and squealed,

"Chi! Chi! Chi chi chi chi!" For a moment, Dee-Jay almost thought that Ken had learned his first swear word, before he realized Ken was simply slurring the 'ch' so it almost sounded like 'sh'. Then, he understood, putting a hand to his metallic beard, considering the matter.

"Now, there's a thought." He mused, "Yes, a real name- Microchip. Not a serial number or combination of numbers and letters, but a name." Meanwhile, Ken was still poking at the little droid repeating 'Chi chi chi chi chi' over and over, "Though Ken seems to have already decided an appropriate nickname for this one."

Ken was let out of his chair and promptly walked over and gave "Chip" a push. The droid stumbled, but finally pushed back, sending Ken to the floor. Ken blinked in utter shock for a few minutes before he stood back up and gave Chip a push again.

"Chi!" Ken asserted. Chip stumbled, then waddled back and gave another shove.

"Ken." Unlike the Human toddler, his voice was very articulate and distinct. Ken didn't seem to quite approve of this, and expressed his displeasure with another shove. This one pushed Chip over, but he got back up relatively quickly.

And thus, the name war began and was quickly ended when Dee-Jay decided that, if they kept it up much longer, they would get each other confused about who was who.

* * *

"So, he's been well taken care of then... that boy..."

A/N: ...Yes, children really do act like that. I honestly believe all the people who are writing the Star Wars EU books have never had children, because they have NO clue how children act.

This chapter's title was written and performed by the Goo Goo Dolls.


	2. Chapter 2

By Sapadu

Chapter 2: Miss Murder

_"The stars that mystify, he left them all behind. And how his children cried."_

The lights were dimmed so the glowing panel controls could be seen. The room was completely silent except for the continuous beep of the heart monitor and breathing machines. Only a few medics and techs remained in the room, observing the subject- supposedly, he was one of the prisoners, but he had been selected for experimentation, with strict orders that he may not die. The medics had found it odd, but did as they were told.

In the end, however, nothing could be done to wake him up, so their new orders were to at least force his body to talk during his sleep. Why the higher-ups wanted him to sleepspeak and sleepwalk, none of the medics or techs could understand.

"What's the status of subject 63696?" Asked the Kommandant, even as the techs mostly recoiled in horror at the man's sudden appearance. He paid it no mind.

"Um... we're afraid the tests are having no effect, sir. We have tried using drugs, minor surgery, hormone therapy, almost every possible test, and subject 63696 still remains unresponsive." The leading medic replied, bringing up the security holocam's view on the computer screen so the Kommandant could see the man sleeping in his cell. It was strange, as nobody really understood the Kommandant's fixation with this man- it had been three years since the incident where this prisoner had escaped, and the Kommandant had been willing to put the execution of another prisoner on hold to find him, but nobody understood why.

Then again, there was a great deal about the Kommandant nobody understood. There was a great deal that they all decided they probably didn't want to understand. He was an unapproachable man, in any case. Tall and built on a big shape, with a striking face, he automatically gave off the impression of someone with power who knew how to use it, even if it wasn't true. His eyes were perpetually narrow and his lips set into a thin, downward curving line, just like his brows.

Of course, there was the added fact that his entire body seemed to command respect by it's mere shape- it seemed as though he could force a doorway to change it's shape to suit him, just by the way he stood erect and unyielding. His shoulders were square in an unchanging stance, and his arms, even as they were hidden in the folds of black uniform, possessed some kind of strength that nobody had ever seen before... well, except some of the older techs and medics who had seen #63696 when he'd still been awake, but that was not important now.

But the most fear inspiring trait of this man was that unnerving eye of his- the one right in the middle of his forehead, where his hair had been slicked back, which seemed to see beyond just what eyes could see. Just something about the way that eye blinked, or how it looked so odd, being just one instead of of a pair and the way that the eyelid hovered over it with no lashes, but the tech could almost swear the Kommandant had some strange ability to see into a person's mind- impossible to lie to, impossible to keep secrets from, impossible to escape from.

The fact that the man had ordered and seen through more executions in the whole prison than the other Kommandants put together only added to that illusion.

"Have you tried using the electroshock yet?" The Kommandant demanded. The tech recoiled, staring at the man in utter shock.

"S-sir... with all due respect, that has no signs of working... and it's so easy to misuse... why, if so much as a single volt is miscalculated, it could kill him." Protested the tech, shivering when the Kommandant's eyes all narrowed.

"He's a prisoner- that is of no consequence." The man replied, sharply. The tech shivered, knowing how wrong the Kommandant was, as well as the consequences that would come.

"B-but, sir... our orders from the..." But the Kommandant's eyes flashed, before he closed the two lower ones, giving all the techs and medics an eerie, unwavering stare with just his third eye. For some reason, that eye seemed to have the ability to force anyone into complete submission. Nobody could refuse the Kommandant when he used it like that.

"I said do it." He snapped. The tech backed away even further, but could not say anything, until the door opened and a new figure entered, this one shorter and much less menacing, in fact, if it hadn't been for how his triangle shaped teeth flashed when his lips moved, he almost would have seemed like a kindly old uncle. His head was bald on top, but lined with black hair from the points of his ears and a fuzzy goatee beard, while his eyes were black, but medium sized, only made small by the fact his brow and eyelids were wrinkled around them in a perpetual squint.

"My Lord Trioculus." He said, snapping his heels together and standing to attention as the Kommandant turned to see who was addressing him.

"What is it, Hissa?" He demanded. The other officer raised a hand to his bald head in a salute as he gave his news in that military tone that the tech was so very sick of hearing.

"We have a visitor awaiting your reception... a messenger from the Emperor, himself." Hissa reported. The Kommandant's face visibly grew more alarmed, before Hissa's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "...And, from the looks of it, it's a real Sith he sent, this time."

The tech saw the Kommandant's eyes grow wide and his pupils dilate. But what did the word "Sith" mean?

"Postpone all experimentation and have the prisoners all brought to the barracks for inspection." The Kommandant finally snapped, exiting the lab and shutting the door with a slam. With a sigh, the tech sat back down in a chair, boredly watching the sleeping man on the other side of the transparasteel.

In the observatory lab, Triclops slept on, uncaring of the events going on outside of him.

* * *

"I trust that you have been encountering no difficulties with the prisoners, Overlord?" The man was tall, taller than even Trioculus was, and almost matching in intimidating, but for vastly different reasons. Trioculus was powerfully built, but this man was just... well, big- there was no other word for it. Everything about him seemed disproportionate compared to other Humans, from his enormous nose and forehead to the ends of his feet that poked out from under his solid black robe, which looked like someone had taken a patch of the night sky down from above and woven it into cloth.

'Indeed, who COULD wear something so ridiculous?' He mused to himself, but said nothing.

"Not at all... Sir." He replied, stiffly, before offering the visitor a seat. There was no expression on the man's face, but it was quite plain that he had nothing but contempt for the offer, "Or, would you prefer to stay standing?" Trioculus quickly amended. The man's eyes narrowed.

"I would LIKE to get business over with, Overlord." He snapped, irritably. Trioculus didn't allow his reaction to be clearly visible, but he was quickly losing patience with this man. Trioculus didn't care if this man WAS a Sith- he'd dealt with Jedi before in the past, and even THAT one hadn't been much good against him.

Then again...

"Of course. What can I do to be of assistance to His Excellency, the Emperor?" He asked in an appropriately sycophantic tone without any of the sarcasm he felt creeping into it. The man cast him a disdainful glare, as though he had heard the tone, anyway, but spoke again in a business-like tone that cast no real hint about his personal thoughts.

"We are looking for volunteers for a specific assignment. Men with particular qualities that cannot be found in any other place across the galaxy. Men who have no purpose to live anymore, will not be a great loss if they die, will not be difficult for His Excellency to control, and who we can manipulate so that nobody suspects them."

Trioculus gave this thought pause just long enough to understand what the visitor was hinting at.

"In other words, prisoners." He surmised, "An undercover mission, I would suspect?" He wasn't entirely sure what annoyed him more- the fact that the prisoners were about to be taken out of the prison, given some actual power, and allowed to roam free, almost like agents of the Empire they'd committed crimes against, or the fact that this man was so utterly taking all possible forms of control over the situation right out of Trioculus' hands.

"An astute assumption." The man replied, icily, "But not quite. If you would have been paying any attention at all to the growing atmosphere of tension between the Imperial Senate and the Emperor- it has come to our attention that some parties in the galaxy may be plotting against him, and it is known for certain that one such party is planning a coup d'etat. For this reason, His Excellency has been forced to retire from any public appearances, aside from broadcastings through the HoloNetwork."

"I see." Was all Trioculus replied, knowing that any more and he would give away more on his personal opinions of the matter. Even as this man seated across from him seemed able to read into his very mind, Trioculus knew that it was impossible- he was invincible.

"With that in mind, it came as a prudent suggestion that we have decoys ready to take His Excellency's place for such public appearances." These words made Trioculus frown, more than a little doubtful.

"I can see the usefulness, but would it not be difficult to find appropriate bodies that are similar enough to His Excellency's? If the illusion were to be made properly, the decoys would be exactly the same as His Excellency's, which could then be useful by showing to the public that not even death could overcome the might of the Empire..."

"Your thinking is much along the lines of our own, but you are making a serious error- the decoys for His Excellency have already been arranged. The men who will be acting as decoys in THIS situation will not be there for the purposes of His Excellency, but of his advisors. His Excellency wishes to form a new public religion in place of the... Jedi..." The word was spat out with such disgust that Trioculus knew it wasn't just an act to remain in favor of the public attitude for the institution, "Over the years, he's created an appropriate such cause, but with the growing dissent against the Empire, he feels it would be wise to have appropriate decoy faces for the public, while the true heads of the new church remain safely in the shadows."

'Where they belong.' Trioculus mused, but, again, kept it to himself, before assuming an appropriately helpful expression.

"In that case, feel free to inspect all the prisoners you care to- we have no attachment to them, and it will save us the trouble and wasted resources of having to shoot a few." He said, gesturing to the door. More than anything, he just wanted out from under this man's gaze. The man's eyes had remained trained on him this whole time, unblinking as though they didn't even have lids. At last, however, Trioculus was relieved from their gaze as the man swept past him to leave the room.

"Oh, and one last thing." He said, in a tone as though it were just a mere trifle he was only remembering off-handedly, "The prisoner that was deliberately asked not to be killed." Trioculus felt a very sour taste in his mouth, "Number 63696... His Excellency has finally found a use for him- he will be leaving the planet with me on a transfer to a new prison base."

'Oh, will he now?' Trioculus mused, but all he said was "I see." The visitor continued out of the room before Trioculus spoke, though more because he was determined to end this meeting on his own terms, not the Sith's.

"Forgive any insolence, but what shall this new religion be called? Just so I know what not to say to the lower officers if they should ask." Trioculus heard the man's footsteps stop.

"To the public, this new religion shall be known as 'The First Church of the Dark Side'. However, to any inside the Empire, you shall know us as 'The Prophets of the Dark Side.'"

"I see." Trioculus finally replied. He could feel those eyes on his back.

"No further complaints, I hope, Overlord?" He asked, though it was more of a command than anything else. Trioculus held in a snarl.

"Of course not... Prophet..." He fumbled for a name, hoping he could at least learn who it was that had been sent to cause him this annoyance, but all he heard in reply was the door shutting.

* * *

_"Okay, this sucks."_

_"Mm."_

_"This sucks, royally."_

_"Mm."_

_"This royally sucks major ass."_

_"Mm."_

_"Dammit, Boy, are you LISTENING to me?"_

_Triclops eyes opened and he gave the reflection of himself a long, impassive stare._

_"So, this sucks." He finally said, much to Viro's annoyance, "What do you want me to do about it?" Viro made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, before flopping down on the floor and pouting like a sulking child._

_"You know, you've been downright unpleasant to live with for the last three years- you swear, you snap, you insult me whenever you care to lash out at something, and that's IF you're on a day that you decide you're actually going to FEEL anything, because for the most part, you just sit and stare at the wall all day." Viro snapped, getting back up and pointing an accusatory finger at his alternate, whom still did not turn around to look at him._

_"Welcome to my world." Triclops replied, acidly. Viro let out a huff, but sat down again, unable to argue with that statement, knowing full well he had been just as unbearable in his first few years living in the same body as Triclops._

_In all honesty, in a very short amount of time, Triclops and Viro had changed roles as the "Adult" and "Child" sides of the body. Neither was quite sure how, but Viro had the distinct impression that in Triclops' case, that was because he didn't care. Now, instead of Viro being responsible for and taking care of the meek and passive Triclops, the unfeeling being called Triclops now instructed and disciplined the rowdy, childish behavior of Viro._

_"Damn, I miss the cute little newbie who dreamt in pastel kittens." Viro muttered, before perking up, "Hey, that's it!" With just a moment of concentration, the otherwise dark and dreary dreamscape was filled with the same kinds of fluffy stuffed animals that would have made the old Triclops have a seizure from all the cuteness._

_This new Triclops merely stared as one crawled into his lap and stared mewing at him. Then, as he grew fed up with it, he picked it up and dumped it to the side. Immediately, almost all of them disappeared, except for the one that Triclops had touched._

_"...Boy... they're CATS!" Viro insisted, though the enthusiasm was strained. Triclops didn't look back at him._

_"I realize." Even his voice was flat and dull. Viro tried again, picking up the remaining stray and dropping it onto Triclops' head this time._

_"They're CUTE!" He pressed. Triclops lifted one enormous hand and removed the cat, but finally turned and glared at Viro, eyes so terrible that Viro was almost frightened he'd be burned._

_"I am not amused." He whispered. Viro stared at him for a moment, before noticing that, in spite of the fact that he didn't seem to give a damn about something so cute, Triclops still wasn't getting rid of it. Viro's face softened a little._

_"I miss them too, you know." He said, quietly. Triclops looked away again, but pulling the cat, which had stopped moving at this point, to his chest._

_"It makes no difference." Triclops whispered, "...Nothing can be changed at this point."_

_Nobody would come for them. Nobody would save them. Nobody cared. Viro remained silent, showing a sign of tact for once in his existence, but Triclops broke the silence, first._

_"Everything was supposed to be okay..." Triclops whispered. Viro stared at him for a moment, but said nothing in the end, before Triclops began to speak again, "Viro... would you call me cowardly... if I said that I wanted to die, right now?" This time, Viro's reply was concise and prompt._

_"No. I wouldn't call you cowardly- given that you've been through Hell enough times before, the fact that this is the first time I've heard you considering it is enough proof that you're not a coward." Viro said, simply, looking in a different direction. Triclops didn't look at him, but Viro could feel him tensing, waiting for the other shoe to drop._

_"But I would say that you're being fucking selfish." Viro added. Triclops didn't react, except to glare._

_"Oh? I'm being selfish because I simply want out of the race? Seems to me that someone else has a better chance to win if I am not in it." Triclops noted, sarcastically, but Viro pushed it aside._

_"In case you haven't noticed, I'm sharing this body with you." Viro snapped, but Triclops didn't appear to be listening, "And for another thing, I'm in the same boat as you are- You might not believe me, but I really was in love with Woman. It's just as hard for me that those two are gone as it is for you."_

_Triclops wasn't moved by these arguements._

_"Then, you can take over the body- I'll become the imaginary personality that eventually fades away." He snapped, but Viro ignored him and kept talking._

_"And you've still got a kid- Boy, I thought you LIKED cute things. How's that son of yours gonna feel if his dad decides to just up and die because mom's not around? He's gonna feel pretty inferior- are you saying that you don't love that boy? ARE YOU?"_

_That was it- Triclops threw a punch. Viro went reeling, but landed perfectly on his feet and returned to his neutral stance. Triclops didn't attack him again, but had turned around and was pointedly ignoring Viro again._

_"You're just scared that I'm right- after how much you wanted to be a dad, you're too scared to care about the kid, so you just forget about him, completely. Funny, I remember someone else doing that- but, since Mommy gave a damn about him, maybe he won't be TOO messed up. Who knows- maybe he's working in a factory or something like that. Much better than OUR shit pot in life." Viro was scraping at the bottom of his pot of insults, trying to find something that would at least make Triclops react again, but when he looked up, he simply saw a pillar of ice between him and his other self. Through it, he saw a very, very distorted image of Triclops, sitting with his back to Viro, but it was clear enough the intention._

_"Coward." Viro spat._

_Triclops continued to cling to the stuffed cat._

_"It's okay- we're not gonna hurt you, you can come out..." Triclops looked up at the image of a woman with brown hair and bright gray eyes, holding out her hand to him. She smiled a strange smile that was full of energy, but all of it was directed, instead of let to run lose. She stood with a confidence and strength that others would have confused for huberis, but Triclops knew her so well that he was very sure she was not arrogant, "My name's Kendalina Orewahime. You don't need to hide in there."_

_Triclops grimaced, but couldn't look away, even as Kendalina shifted, as though responding to a reply he'd given, but he hadn't heard,_

_"Huh? Whaddya mean you're scared? It's okay- I used to be scared a lot, too. But I have someone important to me that I want to protect. I'm not hiding away- hey, I know! If you ever get too scared, you can always come to me. I'll protect ya! And so'll Master Retaw- she'll take care of both of us."_

_Triclops continued to watch Kendalina babble, seemingly to herself, but in a way as though she could hear Triclops responding back._

_"But... why'd they have to kick her out, anyway? She didn't do anything to hurt anyone... Well, not anyone who MATTERS, anyway. She was just protecting us." Kendalina suddenly changed, fuming over whatever event it was, but Triclops knew well enough- he'd been there, at the center of it. He'd caused it, "That's it- Trike, we're gonna get her back! Master Retaw always said 'If it's for my padawan, I can do anything.' Now, it's my turn- it's OUR turn to be able to do anything for HER."  
_

_Triclops' expression grew pained, as Kendalina changed again, this time standing before him with a resolute smile._

_"It's gonna be okay, Triclops. Trust me- I'll protect you and our son, no matter what. I don't go back on my words- that's MY way of the Jedi." Triclops watched her extend a hand, "C'mon. Let's get outta this hellhole! Let's get out- let's be free!"_

_Triclops lifted his arm, extending his own hand, reaching for Kendalina's. Her smile continued to glow in the darkness of his dreamscape, eyes still bright as a sun, but with the luminescent color of a moon and the twinkling of starlight. Triclops reached to take her hand, and watched, helpless against his own despair as his palm and fingers simply passed through hers, falling towards the floor. Kendalina's figure remained frozen, as though she were really there, trapped in the moment, unmoving, unresponding, but that smile of hers and those brilliant eyes still gleaming with all the life that she'd held._

_"Even though I knew... even though I Saw... even though I could tell from the start... I still could do nothing to save you... even for once... Just like you always protected me... I couldn't even repay that debt to you... even this one time..."_

_A single tear ran down Triclops' nose and dripped onto his hand, clenched on the floor._

On the other side of the galaxy, a three-year-old Ken woke up crying, and couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming that had been so sad.

A/N: _Miss Murder_ is composed and performed by AFI.

Triclops? Is not a very happy camper right now.

Hmm... Not a lot of these first two chapters have been about Ken, have they? Well, whaddya expect? The kid's three. Not much you can do at that age. And, hey, let's face it- he's just growing up in the Lost City of the Jedi. What's so exciting about that?

Okay... Next chapter, I will have nothing BUT the little chibi. Happy now?


	3. Chapter 3

By Sapadu

Chapter 3: Exile

_"All I am, a child with promises. All I have are miles full of promises of home."_

"I had that dream again, last night." It had been going on for a long time now, on and off, that Ken would wake up with a profound sense of pain panging in his chest, and usually for the same, however foggy reason. He hadn't been entirely sure what it had been that made him feel like this, but Ken did know that his dream was usually about the same thing every time he woke up, crying.

The details were never that clear- really, the most distinct thing Ken remembered was just the feelings, the distant emotion that someone in his dream had been feeling. Sometimes, he had a sense of two people, then one of the people disappearing, and then the ache would come, but he couldn't really remember anything specific. In any case, he knew that it was important, even if he couldn't explain why.

Thankfully, Dee-Jay never asked for explanations, nor questioned when Ken talked about his dreams.

"Do you still not remember exactly what you saw?" Dee-Jay asked, calmly, while Ken munched on the bread before him. It was dry and salty and fell apart in his mouth, but still made a distinct snap as he bit. Supposedly, it was made out of nutrient paste, which would explain why it was so disgusting, but that didn't bother Ken quite so much as the fact that his stomach always was growling two hours after breakfast. No matter how nutritious his meal was, it was never very filling.

"Not really... I kind of felt this sense of two people... and one of them was smiling... but the other one was crying. I could not understand why, though..." Ken answered, reaching for the water. Dee-Jay's ruby-like visual sensors lingered on Ken for a moment, but eventually returned to operate the computer. It was an odd arrangement, but since Ken was the only one here who needed to eat, there was no real kitchen. As such, meals were eaten right in the Jedi Library, where they could start classes as soon as Ken was finished eating.

It was for this exact reason that Ken ate very, very slowly.

"This is probably your latent abilities with the Force surfacing." Dee-Jay said, "It is a mild degree of being able to read minds, or possibly see either fore coming or past events. Since you only have this sense in your dreams, I would say it is probably the latter- mind-reading tends to be more driven during periods of consciousness and generally is more concrete in details and images."

Ken blinked for a moment, the corner of his bread still in his mouth, before he released it and squinted at the teacher droid.

"Dee-Jay... what did you just SAY?" Ken finally asked. A good portion of the sophisticated words Dee-Jay had used, being restricted for more educated beings, had gone right over Ken's head without even ruffling his hair. If it had been a living creature, DJ-88 would have sighed at Ken's question, but as it was, there was no response.

"In other words, when you get older, you will be able to do things with the Force. Now, it is time for the lesson to begin." Dee-Jay started up a holo projector, even as Ken protested.

"But I am not finished, yet!" Indeed- there was still half of the nutrient paste bread on his plate and the water glass still had a gulp or two left, but Dee-Jay's mechanical tone turned stern.

"You have been deliberately dragging out mealtimes for awhile now, Ken- from now on, we will start at a set time, so put the rest of that bread in your mouth and chew while you listen to the lecture." Dee-Jay jabbed a finger in the direction of Ken's plate. As soon as Dee-Jay had turned around, Ken stuck out his tongue, but obeyed, with a slight 'Hmph' as he stuffed the bread fully into his mouth and chewed it with deliberate noisiness.

Dee-Jay paid it no attention and began the lecture.

(A/N: Yeah... I lifted this straight out of Wookiepedia... see the end for proper documentation- MLA format.)

"The Jedi Order was an ancient monastic peacekeeping organization unified by its belief and observance of the Force, specifically the light side. The Jedi were the guardians of peace and justice in the Galactic Republic, and became the most famous of the various groups that relied on the Force for their power. Led by a series of Jedi Councils, the Order grew over the millennia despite facing many trials, most often threats from the Sith, wielders of the dark side of the Force." (Jedi Order para. 1) Ken tried chewing a little louder, but the bread was now soft in his mouth and didn't make even the slightest bit of a crunch. Now, his mouth felt dry and sticky, and tasted like the sour, bitter bread flakes. He grabbed his water and gulped it down, even though his mouth still stung with the nasty taste.

"During several Great Schisms, Dark Jedi broke away from the order. These schisms led to several wars including the Hundred Year Darkness after which the Dark Jedi fled and founded the Sith Empire. The Sith were eventually found by the Republic and their discovery led to The Great Hyperspace War, and a Sith invasion of Coruscant. The Jedi on Coruscant, led by Jedi Guardian Anavus Svag and Jedi Master Memit Nadill, successfully defended the planet and defeated the Sith. But their dark brethren wouldn't stay defeated for long and during the next several thousand years many wars would be fought. A thousand years later, after The Great Sith War, the Mandalorians saw their chance and attacked the weakened Republic. After the war, the Jedi that had led the Republic's military, Revan and Malak, disappeared. When they returned it became clear they had turned to the Dark Side, and during the war that followed many Jedi died. During the aftermath the Order was left numbering less than one-hundred Jedi, until it was rebuilt by the Jedi Exile and the Lost Jedi." (Jedi Order para. 2) Ken had heard so many lectures like this before- it was really boring. So, the Force was out there, and the Jedi did what it told them to do. That was pretty simple. Why did he have to learn history like this? If he was going to be a Jedi, he'd just need to use the Force, and he'd know everything, right? That's what Dee-Jay had said in past lectures. Besides, what did it matter what the bad guys did how many millennia ago? They were dead- dead and gone and not here.

"Many years later the galaxy was again engulfed in a War between the Republic and the Sith. Led by Lord Hoth, the Jedi were able to regroup and push back the Sith, who eventually withdrew to the planet Ruusan. After seven long battles on Ruusan..." (Jedi Order para. 3) Ken's eyelids drooped a little. He really should have gone to bed last night when he was supposed to, but... "Should have" was one of those phrases that didn't count for much when you HADN'T done what you were "Supposed to" have done. He knew that well enough by now, even if he'd never be able to be so eloquent about it. And Dee-Jay would notice if Ken put his head down and fell asleep during the lecture- he'd done it before, and Dee-Jay's lecture had been... less than comfortable to sit through.

Now, Dee-Jay was rambling something about the wars- explaining how they had started, what the conflicts were, and how they were fought. Ken didn't really care- wars were boring, and kind of stupid, anyway. So lots of people "died"... why didn't the people left behind just fix them and bring them back to life? Droids in the city did that all the time- why were people too stupid to know how to do it?

Ken's mind started to wander, wondering when this stupid lecture would end so he could go find Chip and they could play tag or something like that... then it occurred to Ken, as Dee-Jay's back was to him, completely, that there was a way out. Dee-Jay hadn't yet looked back to make sure Ken was still in his seat, so if he moved quietly enough...

"In 5,000 BBY, the Republic discovered the Sith and the Great Hyperspace War began. Though it ended with Dark Lord of the Sith Naga Sadow in suspended animation on Yavin 4- here in other words- and..." (History para. 12) Dee-Jay paused, suddenly noticing the lack of huffing and chair scraping and other noises Ken usually made to show he was in a bad mood. Unless the boy had fallen asleep again... Dee-Jay turned and noticed the chair was empty.

"For some reason... this is not surprising..." Dee-Jay mused.

* * *

"Boy, am I glad to see YOU, Chip!" Ken said, pouncing on the droid who was exactly his height and sending both of them to the floor, "Come on, let us play tag- Dee-Jay's lectures are boring." Ken got up when Chip stood and gave him a shove. It was weird, but for as long as Ken could remember, Chip had always been the same size as him- something about his arms and legs made them extend every year for every centimeter that Ken grew, so they always remained the exact same height.

"What was it today?" Chip asked. Ken rolled his eyes.

"Some stupid lecture about the Jedi Order and all the wars they had with the Sith... Stuff I have heard before." Ken hadn't, but he knew Chip wouldn't argue if he said that- for some reason, a program had been added to his child behavior that made him something of a physical embodiment of a conscience. With an appropriate lie, however, Ken usually got around the guilt trip.

"Then, you are it, today." Chip proclaimed, tapping Ken's head with his metallic fingers and making a dash in the opposite direction. Ken went after him, skidding to a halt when Chip suddenly turned 180 degrees and started to run back towards Ken, pulling him between the domes as he did.

"Dee-Jay?" Ken asked, but Chip hushed him. Ken peered out a little to see Dee-Jay and HC going through the paths that they could fit onto, obviously looking for himself and Chip.

"I do not believe this is our appropriate function- to search for a five-year-old Human boy like this when he should be studying quietly in the library. It is not fitting for my circuits to be poking around like this." HC was fussing, even as Dee-Jay attempted to pacify the otherwise harsh words.

"This is natural in the maturing stage and learning process. As soon as he is found, appropriate punishment must be used to correct the misbehavior- otherwise, it will not be effective. In any case, at least this is a sign that he is developing normally. Now, all that is needed is for him to learn the discipline to become a Jedi." HC made a strange noise that, in an organic creature, might have been a huff or snort.

"That boy? He is far too impatient and impulsive- he would never make a good Jedi, even if he did manage to become one." HC snapped. Ken's ears twitched, the words seeming to go straight to his brain, penetrating into it and tickling his nerves to the point he just couldn't sit still. As though something else was controlling his muscles, Ken jumped out from the hiding position and started to shout at the retreating backs of Dee-Jay and HC, pointing as he did.

"Hey! Shut up, HC- I will be a great Jedi someday! You just wait for it- I will show you!" Dee-Jay and HC stopped and turned to stare.

"Ah, you were right- that DID work." HC finally said to Dee-Jay, whom had immediately started in Ken's direction.

"Oh SNAP!" Ken skidded around, but was promptly caught by the scruff of his neck by Dee-Jay's large, metallic hands. Even Chip was grabbed and lifted clear off the floor as Dee-Jay dragged them back to the library, both of them kicking and squirming every step of the way.

* * *

Sleeping habits, while normally an individual characteristic, seem to have some sort of root in genetics. This was an observation that Mehgan Retaw made as she looked down at the little one- earlier in the night, Ken had kicked and squirmed and pushed away the blanket, but now, he was curled up around his pillow, which was easily as big as himself.

Really, she didn't know who she saw more of in this boy.

"There is a reason for this visit, is there not?" DJ-88 asked, observing Mehgan's watching over the sleeping five-year-old. With a casual shrug, she turned away to face the droid.

"Just a check up." She said, "How is he doing, otherwise?"

"Developmentally speaking, he is average- perhaps a little too energetic and enthusiastic, but that might be because of the diet situation, since nutrient paste has a large percentage of preservatives that are stimulants. Other than that, normal growth spurts, average maturity, if a bit easily distracted and less than cooperative to his studies." DJ-88 reported. Mehgan snickered, just a little bit.

"In other words, he's been skipping out on lectures." She surmised, resisting the temptation to reach down and pull up the blanket that Ken had kicked away. DJ-88 did it for her, anyway, as soon as it noticed the difference, "Master Yoda once gave me some advice with how to deal with that: Sometimes, better than a stick, a carrot works."

Somehow or another, Mehgan wasn't too surprised with this development in Ken- overly enthusiastic and excitable. Loud and boisterous and far too energetic to be expected to sit still. But, at the same time, he also had some other quirks that Mehgan had seen in quite a different circumstance- the unusual accent, the odd way of following the droids around like a lost chick, the strange habit of never using contractions, even the little things about how he viewed the wars and blood and death that was required in his history lessons.

DJ-88 seemed to know what Mehgan was thinking.

"This boy is neither his mother, nor his father." It said, almost severely. Mehgan looked away, turning her attention to the boy's desk and closet- absolutely everything the boy owned was silver, right down to his clothes. Perhaps that was a good thing, as a child wearing silver clothes probably looked more like a droid than Mehgan had when she'd first come to the City. She'd HATED how she'd been stared at by the droids and it only made sense that in a child Ken's age, being "Different" from other people and being ostracized and ogled at was quite a shaping experience.

Still, it was going to be interesting to see how he reacted when he got to his teens and wanted to wear... other things.

"Putting that aside, I also came to deliver something." Mehgan said, as though DJ-88 had never spoken, though it did question what Mehgan had to deliver, as she reached inside her robe and pulled out the ball of fur and feathers that had been sleeping peacefully inside her pouch, "Here- it's an animal. I think."

The creature uncurled and let out a mewling sound as it yawned. DJ-88 took the animal from her hands and examined it for a moment.

"A mooka. Male. Though they normally are not this size." It noted. Mehgan shrugged, almost apathetically, before the droid continued, "Funny, but HC-100 was complaining about how much we dote on this boy..." It let the sentence trail, but Mehgan quickly bristled at the indirect accusation.

"This isn't doting." She snapped, "It's a lesson."

"A lesson?"

"Yes- a lesson." When DJ-88 didn't seem to comprehend, Mehgan rolled her eyes, aggravated, "Ken still doesn't know the difference between living beings and droids- he thinks everything can be treated like machinery, isn't that right?" The droids visual receptors flickered again in that blinkish manner, before it confirmed this was true, "Because of this, he has no sense of life. To him, if someone dies, they can just be fixed, and everything will be okay, just like droids are. He even thinks of himself like that- unaware that he can be harmed or permanently damaged. If he was allowed to go out into the world now, he'd recklessly put himself in harms way and easily be hurt."

"And having a pet to care for will be the solution. Yes, that does make sense." DJ-88 finished.

"Good. Just so we're agreed." Mehgan said, turning back to watch Ken for a moment longer. It was still such a painful experience, looking down at this boy. Part of her wanted to reach out and muss up his hair and act like it was still Kendalina under her care in the Jedi Temple, or even the House of Zuka, but another part of her felt such bitterness that this boy even existed she was almost tempted to put her hand around his little neck and squeeze.

These thoughts were quickly dismissed as the boy shifted in his sleep a little, one hand coming up to his mouth and thumb slipping in past his lips. A flash of red eyes and dark hair cut through Mehgan's memories and settled her emotions back into their proper place- even though she'd never had children of her own, she was this boy's "BaBa Maggie". His mother had said that much to her, and Mehgan had sworn that she would protect him.

_If it's for my padawan, I can do anything._

But at the same time, she felt... well, almost sorry for this boy. He was going to be a Jedi, someday- it was in his blood, but at the same time, he had no choice. The entire galaxy had been wiped clear of the Jedi, to the point that any child with the potential simply wouldn't have a choice if the Order was to be revived. But it shouldn't have to be that way- there should be some choice. After all, it had been the idea that a child sensitive in the Force DIDN'T have a choice that led to...

Mehgan let out a sigh and glanced over the room again, just to be sure that there was nothing too off about it. Safe for a little boy, conducive learning environment, as well as entertaining enough that Ken would at least grow up with SOME sense of humor. Then, the tiny glimmer of silver on his desk caught her eye. Upon closer inspection, it was, indeed, the little half of the Chalactan faith stone that Kendalina had given Ken as she'd...

So, Ken still had it. And, from the little chain it was on, he probably wore it everyday.

"Wish I could be here to see his face when he wakes up to see that little fuzz ball on top of him." Mehgan sighed, leaving the dome house and headed back to the repulsor-shaft.

* * *

In the morning, DJ-88 could hear a shriek from Dome House 12, telling him that Ken was, indeed, awake, and the little mooka licking him in the face had been a very unanticipated surprise.

A/N: This chapter, I was listening to Enya. She's the version who I used for the title.

So... yeah. We are seeing similarities, yes?

Works Cited

"Jedi Order." Wookiepedia: The Star Wars Wiki.  3 May 2008. 01 May 2008. starwars./wiki/JediOrder.

"History of the Jedi Order." Wookiepedia: The Star Wars Wiki. 22 April 2008. 01 May 2008. starwars./wiki/HistoryoftheJediOrder.


	4. Chapter 4

By Sapadu

Chapter 4: Summer of '69

_"We were killing time, We were young and restless, We needed to unwind... Those were the best days of my life."_

Ken had never seen a real animal before. The best and closest he'd come was seeing pictures in the Jedi Library, and even then, they were often accompanied by diagrams and lines pointing out specific features to be studied and how they functioned. Even pictures, however, are nothing like the real thing, if only because pictures do not provide the simultaneous sensation of the smell of the animal's fur and the texture of the creature's claws on one's skin.

It was thus that Ken was not entirely sure what to make of it when, one morning, there was the sound of something wholly not mechanical in his ear, a scent of something hot and wafting instead of sterile and stinging, and the feel of air passing over his face while something not quite heavy, but not entirely light at the same time rested on his shoulder.

Then, something wet and rough ran across his face.

Ken's shriek reverberated on the walls as he bolted straight up and skittered backwards from whatever it had been, brandishing his pillow in self-defense before he realized that he was staring at a real, live mooka.

"Shut your mouth, boy." Ken's voice stopped, but his jaw remained open, "I said SHUT it." His mouth closed with an audible click of his teeth, "Good boy."

The mooka was talking.

Ken... hadn't known that mookas could talk...

Or could they?

"I'm going back to sleep if you're done screaming." And the mooka did just that. Ken blinked and stared at it for a moment, before leaning forward and tugging on one of the creature's ears, curiously. The mooka's eye opened again, but said nothing. Ken pulled his hand away, before getting out of bed and quickly finding clothes for the day.

Wait 'till Dee-Jay heard about THIS.

* * *

"Ken, do not be ridiculous- mookas cannot talk. You should know that." Dee-Jay said, sternly. Ken felt his face go red, even as he kept tugging at Dee-Jay's knee joints. His proclamation had not been met well- HC had suggested that they bring in a brain scanner, which Dee-Jay had been very unexpectedly angry about, but Ken didn't understand what it meant anyway, so he didn't really care. Still, he'd thought Dee-Jay would at least understand and be able to explain it.

"But, it is TRUE!" Ken insisted, still pulling. Dee-Jay's ruby eyes were steadily glowing, face forever sculpted into that gentle smile, despite that he was being anything but kind at the moment.

"C'mon! I will prove it- come see it!" Ken pleaded, "Please?"

Dee-Jay, unruffled, picked Ken up by the collar and pulled him into the Jedi Library.

"It is time for class, anyway- I am pleased to see you were at least up and dressed on time today." Ken kicked and squirmed as best he could, but eventually found himself in a chair in the Library, this time with a doc-reader in front of him.

"This should be exciting, Ken- this file has some of the newest information that we have received from our contact on Topworld. As you know, there is a Sith currently in control of, essentially, the entire galaxy calling himself Emperor Palpatine. All the holoclips you've seen down here about this Empire, such as the Erhynradd Massacre, the Battle of Nar Shadda, and the fall of the government of Chandrila, all show how despotic he is and how violent a dictatorship can be." Dee-Jay explained, opening the file and showing a screen of information- some of the words, Ken could make out, but a lot of them were really long and he couldn't understand.

"Dee-Jay, why do the Jedi not just destroy this guy, if he is a Sith?" Ken asked, curiously. Dee-Jay shook his head, almost sadly.

"There are simply not enough Jedi left. Even if they could come together, the new law states that they are to be eradicated- non-Jedi and non-Force users are particularly antagonistic towards the Jedi right now. There is nobody to do the job." Dee-Jay explained. Ken blinked up at him for a moment, before frowning.

"What about the person who brought ME here? Was he not a Jedi?" Ken pressed.

"That person was a Jedi, yes. However, we cannot be sure that person is alive anymore." Dee-Jay's tone left no room for argument, before pressing on, "The reason I bring this up is because of that report before you. Can you read what the title says?"

Ken blinked, then squinted at the doc-reader, trying to discern the unusual letters that composed the heading. He could understand "Of" and a word that looked like "From" except it had a Senth on the end, so that couldn't be it...

"S-Singing... of Co-Chor... Khor..." Ken frowned, then said, slowly, "Cresh-Osk-Resh-Esk-Leth-Leth-Isk-Aurek-Nern..." He glanced up at Dee-Jay, who supplied, helpfully,

"Corellian."

"...Corellian Tr-Treat... Treaty... Froms-no, forms- forms the... All-Ee-An-Ke... to Re-Restore the Re...pub...lice..." Dee-Jay's hand came over the top of the doc-reader and pointed to several words,

"The first word is 'Signing'. Can you work it out from there?" He asked. Ken squinted up at him, before trying again.

"Signing of Corellian Treaty forms the..." There was that 'Aurek' word again, which Ken had no real idea what it was, before Dee-Jay put in, again,

"Alliance."

"Alliance to Restore the Re... Republic?" Ken blinked up at Dee-Jay for a moment, relieved that he was nodding, but still confused, "Dee-Jay, what is an alliance?" The old droid straightened up, before explaining,

"An Alliance is when different parties- in this case, the leaders of the planets Corellia, Chandrila, and Alderaan- agree to work together so they can all do something together. The word 'Alliance' comes from 'Ally', which means 'Someone who helps someone else'."

Ken frowned and considered this.

"So... are they friends?" He asked. Dee-Jay shook his head.

"No, Ken- friends are bonded because they chose to. Allies must come together by necessity to stop a common enemy."

"But... but but but but... But these people CHOSE to sign this treaty or whatever... does that not mean..."

"Ken, you must understand- these three leaders signed the treaty because they believed that, if they had not, the Empire would destroy them. That means they had to do what they did- there was no real choice involved." Ken continued to frown, before Dee-Jay explained in a different way, "It was a similar choice to you coming to class- if you put your mind to it, you COULD chose to run away and hide and not come to classes, but you know you would get in trouble for that, so you chose to come, instead."

Ken squinted and wrinkled his nose up at his teacher.

"No I do NOT- you always DRAG me here!"

If it could have, DJ-88 would have sighed with exasperation.

* * *

"Papa." Bail Organa paused in his steps, turning to see his daughter waiting for him behind the ship docking port. Leia's face was oval shaped and still bright as a full moon, but her eyes had grown darker, her face framed by a bundle of hair that circled her head in braids like a dark halo, in fact, with her hair up in two buns over her ears, Bail had almost thought Leia's late mother had been waiting behind him.

"Leia, were you there this whole time?" He asked. Leia quickly ran through the different responses she could give her father, before settling on the best.

"No. Did you just get in?" She asked. Her father was giving her the most peculiar look- she knew that some of it was confusion, but there was also some kind of worry. As for what he was worried about was anyone's guess- she suspected that he was concerned that she might have found out about what he'd been doing, which, in all honesty, Leia had known, more or less, that her father was planning on an organized rebellion against the Empire. Only a month ago, she'd heard his conversation in a Holo Meeting with the two other senators concerning the plans, but something else seemed a foot here.

"Oh! You're seventeen today, isn't that right?" Leia paused, blinked, and then realized, yes, she was indeed seventeen that day. However, this only made her more determined to have a serious conversation with her father.

"That's not what I needed to speak with you about." She said, firmly. Her father paused, but sighed a little.

"I understand that you're concerned about the marriage arrangements- your aunts might be a little overzealous, but I will have... words with them..." Leia had to pause again- she had completely forgotten about the marriages among the old Houses, mostly because she'd been forcibly keeping the thoughts out of her mind. Several responses to this reaction from her father quickly came to mind, but she bit them back, settling on the most appropriate one.

"Thank you."

Perhaps it was a bad idea to try to talk to her father about this- after all, she was grown, now, and about to enter the world of politics on her own. She couldn't go to her father like a whiny child- that wasn't what a real Senator did. Besides, it was just a dream. No matter how unusual it had been, or how terrified she had been upon waking up, it was still just a dream, not something to complain about to her father.

Oh well. At least there was still Winter.

As soon as her father left, Leia went in the other direction to find her friend. That wasn't quite as bad- gossiping like sisters was still acceptable, even for a Senator in training.

* * *

"Nice chrono, Wormie- where'd ya geddit?" Windy asked, while Luke just grinned.

"Aunt Beru- she said that since there hadn't been enough money to do something nice last year, a chrono seemed like a good gift for seventeen." The words were said with a kind of exasperated shrug, the same way an adult was supposed to be embarrassed at their parents STILL giving them birthday presents, but the gleam in his eyes spoke lengths at how much he'd liked the gift.

"Oh YEAH! Hey, Deak, Fixer- Wormie's all grown-up! He's one of the MEN, now!" Windy called over the racket of engines clattering as they tried to start up the home-made pod. Fixer poked his head out from behind the shelves of supplies, also grinning, before a new voice arrived behind Luke.

"I, on the other hand, am already EIGHTEEN!" Luke turned around to see Tank standing head and shoulders over him. Luke blinked for a moment, before the realization set in and Tank grinned, with a smug, "HA!"

"Tank..." Luke could hear Camie's voice coming from the background, almost warning, but he didn't turn around, still glaring at Tank.

"What, d'ya want a celebration or a reward or something?" Tank kept teasing, even as Luke heard Biggs put in his own two credits.

"Tank, you really don't wanna..."

"Fine, _Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you..._" Tank started to sing in a mocking, joking voice, which made the back of Luke's neck and ears go red, "_Happy Birthday, dear Wormie..._

"Tank, one of these days, 'Dear Wormie's gonna seriously own your hide and it's not gonna be funny." Camie said, interrupting the song, even as Luke's face scrunched up and turned bright pink.

Tank just laughed and strolled out, saying he had chores to do before the sun went down. Luke stuck his tongue out after him and took the jumper cables he'd brought over to the workbench where the whole gang was trying to figure out why the engine wasn't hovering like it was supposed to.

By the time they were done for the day, Deak had already gotten clocked over the head by Fixer for a crack at his piloting skills while Biggs and Luke had done their best to keep Fixer from taking the old skiff out to Carkoon again.

"Well, it's late, and my mom wants me up early t'morrow mornin'- See ya, guys! Happy seventeenth, Wormie!" Camie was the last one to leave, aside from Luke and Biggs, who had offered to give her a lift back. Luke's heart fluttered as he waved goodbye, a wide grin plastered on his face before Biggs leaned over and muttered,

"You DO know she's dating Fixer, right?"

Luke's hand dropped, as did his face.

"...Yeah..." He muttered, miserably, before Biggs changed the subject and started a race back to the Lars' homestead. Even with the head start and element of surprise, Luke still beat him there.

"Hey, Biggs- can I ask ya somethin'?" He said, abruptly, as the two tried to figure out what had gone wrong with Biggs' engine that had cost him the race. Smoke was streaming from it and every time Biggs tried the ignition, a clanking, sputtering sound came out.

"Sure, Luke- what's up?" Biggs asked, putting a wrench between his teeth as Luke handed him the screwdriver.

"If I told you that I had a dream last night... and I thought that someone had been watching me... and I met these two people- one was a girl 'bout our age and the other was a little kid... and then, this big, creepy guy came in and started laughing at us... and then I woke up..." Biggs kept nodding, even as he and Luke were still concentrating on the smoking power converters, "...Would you say that it's kinda weird for me to think about it so seriously?" Luke finally asked. It sounded so lame coming out like that, but it had been one of those experiences that had just scared Luke so badly at the time that he needed to talk about it with someone.

Biggs considered.

"Nah... that's not weird." He finally said, grinning at Luke, who blinked at him, owlishly.

"Really?" He asked, before Biggs' eyes glimmered.

"I'd say you're crazy, paranoid, and should be locked up in a nuthouse- but not WEIRD!" He added, even as Luke aimed a half-hearted punch at him.

"You SUCK!" Biggs just laughed, before shaking his head.

"Well, someone's gotta toughen you up, Wormie!" He said, flicking his fingers and bopping Luke firmly on the forehead.

* * *

_Darth Sidious waited, almost impatiently, before he found his dream shifting. In the usual fashion, he was seated on his throne, with the tall man standing before him knelt down on one knee- he wore elegant robes of black and red with the symbol of the Sith blazoned on them, his head bowed in the utmost respect._

_"Rise, my faithful spy." He said, smiling at the obedience before him. Obedience was always satisfying. Lord Vader was one thing, but he was always distracted, easily driven to the side by his emotions. This man, however, was the perfect spy- he didn't even need to leave his room, but he knew all, saw all, and could bring everything to his master._

_"It has happened- the three Senators you predicted have formed an Alliance. The Corellians have all the concentrated firepower, and the Senator from Chandrila is still alive. Not only that, but the Senator from Alderaan is the leader of all of it." He reported. Darth Sidious merely smiled._

_"I have felt that, as well. The Corellians and Chandrilans will be easily enough dealt with- I need to know what can be done about the Alderaanian." He said, lazily. After all, the Corellians were where THAT person had come from. He could dispatch young Zuka to deal with him. And Chandrilans were all cowards. It was Bail Organa who would be the most difficult to rid himself of._

_"He has a daughter. Yet, I can easily tell you that this child is not truly his- either his wife had an affair or they adopted, but in any case, he has been trying to keep this a secret from the public for a long, long time." The spy reported. Darth Sidious sneered, before agreeing this was, indeed, useful._

_"Very well, then." He said, calmly. "You may leave now- be sure you continue your work regarding our weapons. I have made arrangements so the information you give will reach the most capable ears." The spy bowed, deeply, before rising with a small smile and turning to leave, the eye in the back of his head remaining fixed on his master as he left the dream._

_"Soon... you shall have two Skywalkers bowing before your feet... Father..." The man said, quietly, as the remnants of Darth Sidious' dream were left behind._

A/N: Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! How's that? Yes, the bits with Luke and Leia are crucial. To be precise, Obi-Wan, who took Luke to safe-keeping at the Lars' is now watching over him, probably because he is the son of Obi-Wan's apprentice, who was like a son to Kenobi. Hm... now who does this remind us of?

Yeah- I'm evil, I know.


	5. Chapter 5

By Sapadu

Chapter 5: Dreams

_"And I want more, impossible to ignore. And they'll come true, impossible not to do."_

"So... you do not want me to tell anyone that you can talk?" Ken asked the mooka that was chasing the string he was dangling for it. Ken hadn't been able to concentrate on homework, so he'd resorted to playing with the mooka. After Dee-Jay's lecture about 'Alliances' and 'Treaties', Ken had gone into biology, looking up files about mookas, what they needed to eat, how much exercise they needed, things like that. It turned out that, despite seeming like canines for all appearances, mookas were more closely related to felines. Hence, the string.

There truly was no better waste of time.

"Pretty much." The mooka replied, jumping and almost catching the string between it's front paws. Ken still couldn't tell if the mooka was male or female, wasn't sure how to check, and even if he had, still completely in the dark about the differences between the sexes beyond a female could have kittens if there was a male around. But there was just one, so that wasn't a possibility.

"And... it is because Dee-Jay and the other droids will see it as a sign that I am... s-s-scizz-o-frenic?" Ken asked, stumbling over the weird word the mooka had used. His hand ceased in bouncing and the mooka finally caught the string, gnawing at it with its beak.

Almost as soon as the victory was made, the mooka released the string to talk.

"They'll think you're crazy, kid." It confirmed. Ken's nose wrinkled.

"But droids cannot think." He protested. The mooka turned its beady eyes on the boy, almost with the attitude as though it would have rolled its eyes if it could have.

"Fine- 'Their programs will interpret your behavior as an indicative symptom of being medically insane.' In any case, they'll bring out a brain scanner." And then, the mooka went back to attacking the string.

Oh... THAT'S what HC had meant...

"So... this is a... secret?" Ken guessed, twirling the string again. The mooka jumped up again, before Ken dropped the string to the floor and started to snake it back and forth over the carpet.

"Yeah... it's a secret. Just between the two of us." The mooka agreed, chasing the string. Ken's wrist was getting tired, so he eventually threw the string into a corner. The mooka scrambled after it and gnawed for a few moments, before taking it back to Ken, expecting him to start the game again. Ken just stared at the piece of string on the floor, frowning.

"But..." Ken muttered, nudging at it with a finger, pondering, "Why?" He finally came up with.

The mooka blinked at him, then swatted at the string, irritably. Ken watched, several objections and questions to the animal's demand going through his head- after all, he had to tell ONE of the droids, at least Dee-Jay, if he asked outright. Then, of course, HC was always adept at cross-examining, and Chip was BOUND to figure it out, eventually, so...

"Not even Chip?" Ken pressed. The mooka glared at Ken again.

"Especially not that one- that one has a voice chip so big that it'll blab to the others in a heartbeat and you know it." The mooka said, managing to sound severe somehow, but Ken just pouted.

"But Chip is... Chip is my best friend. I should tell him, at least." Ken muttered, only for the mooka to go back to the string. It almost seemed indifferent if the animal didn't speak up, immediately.

"No, that thing isn't." Ken blinked, wondering if he'd just heard the mooka correctly, "That thing is a droid. Droids aren't friends- they can't think, they can't feel, they can't be friends or enemies. They just do what they're programmed to do." Ken stared, completely unbelieving what he heard, "You were talking about this with that one the other day- friends are friends because they want to be. That thing is programmed to be your friend- it didn't make the choice, so it's not really a friend. It's even worse- it's like being forced into it."

At this, Ken's disbelief changed into something that he had felt before, except this time, it burned and seared and made him feel sick. After a long moment, Ken picked up his pillow and threw it, aiming directly at the animal.

Ken hadn't known mookas could move so fast.

"What do YOU know about friends- you are just a MOOKA. I will bet you have never had friends, anyway." Ken huffed, turning back to his homework- it was still as boring as ever, but he preferred to deal with something boring than something that made him mad. "Chip is a better friend than you, at any rate."

The mooka ignored Ken, going back to the delicious piece of string.

* * *

_"...Uh... I thought I was asleep..." Ken had had weird dreams before, but, in the usual fashion of dreaming, he normally wasn't conscious and able to reason in them- they just happened, and he kind of went along with them. But being... well, awake when he was asleep... that was REALLY weird. And, more than that, he knew where he was... kind of, without knowing where he was, he still knew that he was somewhere other than his dome house bedroom, and he knew he was sleeping, but that meant..._

_Arg, this was confusing._

_"Maybe I am dreaming... I THINK my eyes are open... so I might be awake... dreaming I am asleep... but if that's true, then where am I? Maybe I am asleep, dreaming I am awake, wondering if I am dreaming, but when I dream, I do not think about stuff like that, so that means I have to be awake... but if I am awake, then how do I know that I am... Ugh, I wish someone else was here who could tell me what is going on!" Ken curled up into a ball, head in his hands as he tried to figure it all out, but someone started to talk from behind him._

_"You are dreaming."_

_Ken jumped back up and skittered around to see someone kneeling on the... well, it wasn't a floor, but it wasn't not a floor... it was almost as though Ken and the other person were standing on little pieces of glass that cast back their reflections, but the rest of the space just did not exist._

_Then... there was just something about this man that was entirely unusual. He was sitting on his feet, dressed entirely in gray, robe-like garments, but was still taller than Ken. His hair was short and stuck up and all of it pulled away from his face, leaving a warped face that looked like the facial equivalent of when Ken was in the bath too long and his fingers and toes wrinkled up, except for his nose and ears, while his eyes stared out like they could see right through Ken's head._

_"...But... my dreams are not like this, normally... so... does that mean this is YOUR dream?" Ken asked. The man's piercing eyes blinked, once, but then his head nodded. Ken wasn't sure why, but it didn't seem odd at all that he was talking to this man- as though they'd known each other forever. It just seemed that way- there was something about how this man kept looking at him._

_Then again, Ken had only ever been really looked at by droids, and their faces showed no emotion, whatsoever. But, for some reason, Ken couldn't find it to be curious about meeting another Human, or, indeed, another living being at all. The mooka was one thing, but Ken just didn't see anything unusual about finally meeting another living being. Then again, this WAS a dream, right?_

_"You are correct. This is my dream." The man said, quietly. There was something new about his voice- Ken had only really heard it before when Dee-Jay had been teaching Ken how to talk... Dee-Jay had called it something like 'Reflection' or 'Deflection' or something-'flection', but Ken still didn't understand. He sometimes heard his own voice speaking, but this man's voice sounded different._

_"But... if this is YOUR dream, then why am I in it- does that not kind of mean that it is my dream, then? Or is it like you are letting me see your dream, kind of how Dee-Jay lets me see holoclips that do not belong to me? And does that mean you BROUGHT me here, or did I kind of butt in when it is none of my business? Or is this all an accident? And, hey, how do you WALK around in dreams, anyway- it is not like we actually are moving around, like when we are awake, so..." Ken stopped, examining what he just said, "...Ugh... I am confused..."_

_The man's impassive, piercing gaze remained on Ken, silently, while the boy pressed his palms to his forehead. Why did he do that, anyway- it's not like he could have a headache when this was just a dream, after all..._

_"...I brought you here, if that is what you are asking." The man said, finally. Ken paused, but stared at the man, frowning. The stranger simply continued to stare back, unblinking._

_"O-kay..." Ken said, slowly. The man remained silent, as though he were letting Ken move the conversation. This was particularly difficult as, since Ken could tell he was expected to say something a bit more profound, he had no clue what to say._

_"So... why am I here, exactly?" Ken finally came up with. The man blinked, then looked away. Ken frowned and tried to move so that he was still following the man's gaze. The man looked away again, determined not to land his eyes on Ken._

_"...I wanted to see you." The man's voice was softer than before, but something about it seemed... louder, for lack of better word. Ken could hear it more clearly than before, and there was something that just reached out to him and made him want to curl up into a ball and cry... or, at least, it felt like the man next to him was wanting to do that, "...I have been alone here for so long... I just wanted to see you... that is all..."_

_Ken stared at him for a moment, before frowning and leaning in._

_"...You wanted... to see someone?" He asked, cautiously. The man shook his head._

_"You." He corrected. Ken frowned, then pulled back, rocking back and forth on his heels._

_"...So... do I know you?" He asked, before something occurred to him, "YOU... YOU WERE THE PERSON WHO BROUGHT ME HERE, ARE YOU NOT?" The man looked up at Ken and his face... changed, somehow... his mouth and eyes were somehow different from how they had been before, in a way that Ken had never seen before in his life. But then, they returned to their old way, whatever it was that had been different._

_"...No." He said, slowly, but there was that 'flection' thing with his voice again that told Ken something was... well, there was something this man was going to say, after this, "...But I do know who it WAS that brought you."_

_Ken felt his eyes light up, even as he dropped down on all fours and scooted close to the man, listening closely._

_"Really? Could you tell ME about him? I keep asking Dee-Jay and HC and Chip, but they do not tell me anything about where I came from or anything- well, Chip does not actually KNOW, so he does not keep secrets, but Dee-Jay and HC DO, so I get really fed-up sometimes... wait until I tell them that I know..." There it was again- the man was doing SOMETHING with his face, even if Ken couldn't think of words to describe it._

_"I cannot tell you." He said, but as Ken felt his face fall, he continued, "...The person who brought you... was a Jedi Knight."_

_Ken's eyes went round._

_"...I KNEW it..." He said, excitedly, "So, that person was a Jedi, then. So, are you a Jedi or somethin'? Is that how you know him? Or did you know about the Order? Or were you one of the Senate members who supported them? Or..." The man's face was the same as ever, but he lifted a single hand and pressed a finger against Ken's lips, silencing him._

_"None of those things." He said quietly, then his lips did something that Ken had never seen before, but he knew what it was..._

_A smile._

_"But now, it is time for you to awaken. It is not yet time for you to know."_

_Ken blinked, but then, the man put his arms around Ken's shoulders, rocking him against his chest._

And then, Ken awoke, and remembered nothing of the white-haired man.

* * *

"So, that's what a forest looks like..." Ken mused, eyes fixated on the screen as Dee-Jay hovered over his shoulder, being sure that he didn't go peeking at files that he wasn't supposed to. For the most part, however, Ken was more interested in the different kinds of terrain and the pictures that accompanied them. It seemed so foreign and alien that such beauty could exist- things were colored, amazing spectrums that he'd never before imagined. When he'd been little, he'd learned about colors, but he hadn't known there were so many different kinds of green- leaf green and grass green and mold green and water green and bright green and dark green and light green and dull green...

Ken had to close his eyes and look away after a moment. All the different kinds of green hurt his eyes.

"That is a forest, Ken, but there are many different kinds of forests- the one on this planet is called 'Tropical', which means the temperatures are high and the humidity is always over at least fifty percent. There are 'Temperate' forests, which have a more varied range of temperatures, but none in the extreme highs or lows- hence, the term temperate- and they have four distinct seasons. There are 'Boreal' forests, which occupy cold planets that do not often have high temperatures, but very wet soils at the same time. And even with those three categories, you have different types of tropical, temperate, and boreal forests. For example, on the forest moon of Endor, both temperate and boreal forests exist, but only specific kinds- the boreals are coniferous forests, while the temperates are laurel forests. However, on different planets, boreals might be evergreen forests or a mixture of coniferous and evergreen, or temperates might be deciduous or even a temperate rainforest." Dee-Jay paused, waiting to see if Ken had questions.

For the most part, however, Ken had not been listening to the different kinds of forests that Dee-Jay had just rattled off. He was too busy scanning the picture for other details- there were bushes with leaves so big that the looked like he could use one as a blanket if he needed to, but others with little, purple colored dots that looked no bigger than a single pixel on the screen. They were all different shapes and shades and sizes and patterns and there were lines running through them, but some ran through from the center, some from the ends, some in random directions, some with a specific pattern.

Then, there were things on the ground- long strings of green, then stalks, then little things with leaves, then little things with leaves and colored dots. Some stood straight up, some wilted, some were brown and shriveled up already, and there were patches of dark green that almost looked like fur, except they were short and green. Things were even poking out of the picture, as though playing hide-and-seek with Ken's eyes- a little green creature with black splotches and round, bulging eyes and swollen throats, and something with feathers, but at the same time, a long, scaly tail, which clung to the bare bark of a tree so closely that Ken barely saw it, and something on a leaf with six, skinny legs that just barely moved and was so infinitesimally small, Ken almost didn't see it until he leaned in closer to examine the black dot that was on the leaf.

"Dee-Jay, is this what Topworld is like?" Ken asked, barely daring to breathe. Why would anyone want to grow up in a world so gray and silver like the Lost City like HE was if there was so much more to be seen on the surface like this. Dee-Jay did not respond immediately, but when he did, Ken almost thought he sounded upset, except that droids couldn't really feel.

"On this planet, yes. That is Topworld. But there are other parts of Topworld that are not quite so beautiful as this, or even clean like this- there are places which are torn and destroyed by war, hunger, drought, fire, and the Empire. Topworld is a dangerous place for a boy your age- you must understand this. That is why you are HERE."

Ken pouted and folded his arms.

"Oh, come ON... just for a day? Or even an hour? I don't care how long- you can even supervise me, or carry me, or not let me leave the transport, but just... SEE it!" Ken asked, getting out of his chair, almost pleading, "Can't I just see it and smells it and hear the world and... and... and OTHER stuff?" Dee-Jay's eyes remained unwavering, just like his face.

"No, Ken- once you have a taste of what the outside world is like, you will want more. At your age, when you are most curious, anxious, and eager to learn, the last thing you need is temptation. To allow you even a moment on Topworld at this point would be similar to letting a starving man see a banquet through a window, but forbid him any taste of it." Dee-Jay said, sternly, "It is better that you stay down here, where it is safe and where you will not be tempted."

Ken flopped back down into his chair, heavily, with a loud 'Hmph' of displeasure.

"Ken, this is not just my decision- these are the instructions of the person who brought you here. You are here to be safe and taught and brought up to be a Jedi- this is the best course."

Ken let out another 'Hmph' and turned away, nose in the air.

* * *

"And then! And then and then and then and THEN... he just says 'This is the best course'. JUST LIKE THAT! It's stupid, right Chip?" Ken asked, later that night as he was learning how to balance a pen between his nose and upper lip. Chip was mostly helping by using his multiple decimal precise eyes and built-in calculator to tell Ken how far to move it to either the left or right. Ken's concentration was broken when Chip's response was unexpected.

"Actually, Master Ken, he is quite right- there are a great many dangers on Topworld, not the least of which are poisonous plants and creatures. And then, they could all carry diseases- you could get sick being up there, even if it was for a second. It probably is best that you remain down here."

Ken dropped the pen and gaped in disbelief.

"CHIP! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE!" He shouted, indignantly, only for Chip to reply, primly,

"My system was upgraded yesterday to ensure your safety, Master Ken- while I agree Dee-Jay was a little harsh in how he said what he did, the fact still remains that..." Chip never finished speaking- Ken lobbed a pillow at his droid-friend and then crawled into bed, despite the fact that it was still mid-afternoon.

"I HATE you, Chip."

* * *

"Y'know, by now, you should've named me..." The mooka said about mid-evening, when Ken still hadn't crawled out of his bed. Ken kept his blanket over his head, ignoring the mooka, before it burrowed under and nibbled on his ear, somewhat affectionately.

Ken peeked out a little, before mumbling, half-muffled by the mattress,

"...Well... are you a girl or a boy?" He asked. The mooka sat down and lifted it's leg, scratching behind one ear. Ken stretched out a hand and obliged, scratching behind the others that the back legs couldn't reach.

"Male." The mooka finally replied. Ken blinked for a moment, before poking his head out a little bit more.

"...Zeebo." Ken finally said, decisively. The mooka, or Zeebo, as he was now, cocked his head a little, blinking the round, beady eyes curiously.

"...Interesting. Why that?" He finally asked. Ken held up two fingers.

"'The boy'... 'Zee boi'... so, Zeebo." Ken concluded. Zeebo's ears flattened against his head in displeasure as Ken burrowed back beneath his covers and fell back to sleep.

"...This kid..." He muttered, "...Can't POSSIBLY be the same one..." Zeebo... because he was 'the boy'. What a stupid name, "...You'll probably call your sibling's kids 'Denice' and 'Denephew'."

Ken didn't respond, except a slight snore and to shift around a bit. Zeebo sat back on his haunches and considered.

"Oh, wait... you're an only child..." Again, Ken just turned over, wrapping himself around a pillow in the process, "Oh well... at least you're being taken care of. Stupid droids."

A/N: This one: The Cranberries.

PLEASE... please realize that SOMETHING is up with the mooka. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease...

And that's it for this chapter- next one... will be a few years later. Ken will be older. And we will see some... developments.


	6. Chapter 6

By Sapadu

Chapter 6: eX Dream

_"Feel the hand of a future that cannot be changed."_

_Faster, faster..._

_Ken's blood felt like it was racing, his head was spinning, his eyes were being pushed back into his skull. The ground was there, but not there and whizzing past him in kilometers per millisecond, but at the same time, he felt like he was standing still. He couldn't breathe, but that was because the air was so thick with speed and heat that he couldn't swallow it. Everything was in a blur of gray._

_Almost there..._

_Funny, but he wasn't tired. He couldn't feel air going over his skin or scalp- even when he'd run around with Chip, it had blown his hair back out of his face. There was something different here. Ken couldn't see or smell or hear or breathe, but he knew there was something here- he was racing towards some importance, he could feel the burn in his bones, the sear of the race... but it wasn't a race, somehow... it had to be something else..._

_I have you now..._

_There had to be a reason. There had to be purpose. After all, if there wasn't any reason why this was going by in such a blur, why would it even be there? Why would he see it? Well, then again, why did he ever see anything? Because he needed to or he'd trip over his own two feet. But... then... did that mean he needed to see this? Why? Back to the purpose._

_Let's blow this thing and go home._

_And then... the world set on fire._

* * *

"And then, I saw this huge ball of fire exploding everywhere and it felt like I heard someone screaming, but there were two different voices- one was happy and the other was angry. Whaddya think it means?" Ken continued, pulling a shirt over his head and wiggling his skull through the neck. Zeebo, for the most part, was more interested in picking at his fur with his beak, ignoring Ken completely. Ken paused, staring at him for a moment, before stopping completely and watching his pet preen himself before Zeebo looked up at Ken again.

"...Sorry, didn't hear you- what was the question?" He asked. Ken did his best to look disgusted and put his hands on his hips, thoroughly put out.

"You didn't hear... you have four ears, and you didn't HEAR me?" Ken asked, slowly. Zeebo blinked his beady little eyes, but then turned back to picking through his fur.

"Have it your way... just seemed a little rude to tell you right off the bat that I didn't CARE..." The mooka said, almost carelessly. Ken huffed through his nose and picked up his pillow, bringing it down with a thump on the spot Zeebo had been sitting on.

Again, Ken was reminded of exactly how quickly mookas could move.

"Keep throwing pillows at me like that, you won't live to see eight, boy." The little ball of fur said, darkly. Ken stuck his tongue out.

"What're you gonna do? Preen me to death?" Ken sneered, but the door opened before the argument could go any further. Ken glanced at the timepiece- seven hundred and twenty-five. Chip was five minutes earlier to interrupt the daily argument with Zeebo, today.

"Master Ken, whoever were you talking to?" Chip asked- it was unusual for Ken to hear the word 'Master' in front of his name, especially from Chip's voice. Even HC didn't call Ken that. At this point, however, Ken had grown used to it enough that he'd stopped asking Chip to stop calling him 'Master Ken'. Even if he'd only stopped asking a few weeks ago. To be precise, Dee-Jay's exact words had been 'You and Chip are both exactly seven years old today, Ken- be more mature about this.'

It had shut Ken up right quick.

Ken's gray eyes met with the beady black ones of the mooka who had returned to grooming himself.

"Myself." Ken finally answered, succinctly. Chip made a noise that might have been a sigh.

"HC is constantly insisting we put your head in a brain-scanner young man- please, do not encourage him with behavior like this." There was another thing- Chip was becoming less and less of a 'Friend' and more and more of a very talkative conscience that was impossible to tune out or leave behind, combined with a watchdog that barked every time someone got near Ken or Ken wandered too far out of sight.

Ken missed having a friend.

"Dee-Jay is insisting you be early today- something very important needs to be discussed. So, hurry up, wash, dress, and eat. Today will not be pleasant if you do not." Chip pushed, not seeing Ken roll his eyes and plop down on the floor to hunt for a missing shoe.

"Fine- I'm dressed." Ken groused, scratching Zeebo's ears as he quickly dashed out the door to avoid talking to Chip anymore. And to avoid the Nutrient Paste bars.

As soon as the door closed, Zeebo stopped picking at his feathers and looked Chip squarely on.

"This has something to do with Skywalker." He said, bluntly. Chip nodded, soundlessly, fully aware that Ken had been talking to his pet, as usual. Really, if it was capable of such a function as 'Wondering', Chip would have wondered how long Ken would go before he realized that all the droids knew about his 'secrets', not to mention that they were sometimes pulling the strings behind the scenes. Oh well, once he was old enough to understand, he'd appreciate it a bit better.

"Yes." Chip confirmed. The mooka made a noise that was about as close to 'disgusted' as Chip's databanks could register for animal-sounding vocal chords.

"...Hmph. Even when that man's long gone from the Jedi, he just won't go AWAY..." He muttered. Chip cocked it's head, in a manner that might have been curious, except for a droid, it was mere information gathering.

"You still hold a grudge against the Jedi Knight, do you not?" It asked, slowly, to be sure that the mooka wouldn't jump and start pecking out it's visual receptors.

"Who said anything about that? I just think Ken should learn a more objective lesson about that man, instead of being spoon-fed the 'This is evil, that is good' routine." Zeebo continued, returning to his business. Chip merely gave a short salute.

"I will relay that to Dee-Jay. I am sure he will do his best to rectify that." And then, Chip left to follow the boy he'd been put in charge of. Zeebo watched, impassively, before curling up on Ken's pillow and yawning, muttering to himself,

"Dear GOD... I forgot how annoying it was to never hear any contractions..."

* * *

"Yeah, Dee-Jay, I remember learning about the Death Star and everything. But, last time we talked about it, wasn't it still mostly incomplete? I mean, it couldn't've actually blown up a PLANET or anything, right?" Ken knew that it irritated Dee-Jay when he fiddled with his necklace like that- maybe that was the reason he did it- but he couldn't help it. Dee-Jay had the old datapad again and this time with a holoprojector screen, which meant Ken didn't even need to hold it or press any buttons, and when he didn't need to do something with his hands, his fingers got fidgety. Hence, playing with the thin chain and dangling crystal or charm or whatever it was on the end.

Dee-Jay reached out and gripped Ken's hands to make him stop fiddling with the necklace.

"Yes, the last time we received data on the Death Star, it was not operational. However, that was many months ago, Ken, and a great deal can happen during that time." Dee-Jay reminded him, clicking on the datapad and bringing up another document that was headed with large letters. This time, unlike when Ken had first read about the Signing of the Corellian Treaty two years ago, he understood the words.

"...Dee-Jay... where is Alderaan, anyway?" He remembered that Alderaan was a pacifist planet, and their leader being one of the people to sign the treaty that had formed the Alliance to Restore the Republic. Still, the idea of a whole planet being blown up... well, that was pretty much impossible. Thinking over it logically, this document COULDN'T be true.

So why did Ken have this twisting, queasy feeling in his stomach that it WAS?

"The Core Worlds in the Alderaan system, Ken. It was one of the most well-kept natural preserves in the galaxy- even the inhabitants kept their construction minimally intrusive, and as such, most of the major landforms that gave geologists and biologists a better understanding of how species evolved were kept intact for study. It was also the center of learning and the arts in the galaxy, and one of the strongest worlds in the Senate, yet completely unarmed." Dee-Jay confirmed. Ken frowned, concerned to hear words like 'was' and 'were'.

"...Dee-Jay... Alderaan didn't REALLY get blown up, did it? I mean... that's just not possible..." Ken asked, shakily. Dee-Jay said nothing, so Ken laughed a little nervously, "...Right?"

When Dee-Jay spoke again, his tone was severe.

"Ken, this is not a matter to be laughing at." He said, very quietly, "Within the past week, people have died. Many people. Homes were destroyed, cities burned, families torn, and many, many innocent civilians lost their lives. At the same time, a planet that had been preserved for centuries, even with the colonization of Humans, was demolished completely to dust. All of this happened in the span of a few seconds with a single blast."

Ken paused for a moment, feeling remotely ill. Part of him was wondering how ANYTHING could do that much damage in a single bolt- Dee-Jay had once let him see footage of lasers and the damage they could do, but the most that Ken had seen, the highest power laser had needed several shots to destroy a large rock. And, intellectually, he knew that a planet was, essentially, a very, very, very, very large rock... there was just no way...

"But... Dee-Jay... there's no laser that could destroy a PLANET... it takes too much energy and so much of it would be wasted in the channeling and..." Ken protested, before Dee-Jay simply pointed to the datapad before him.

"This has been documented by a large number of people, Ken- many living beings have questioned the Empire and have now openly challenged the Emperor's reign by pledging allegiance to the Alliance to Restore the Republic. Even the Empire itself has recognized Alderaan's destruction, albeit in an attempt to defend itself against criticism. In light of these circumstances, the event cannot be dismissed as a mistake, misunderstanding, or lie. Furthermore, the very same warship that destroyed Alderaan very nearly destroyed this moon- It was just at the last moment that the Death Star was destroyed." Ken tried to listen to the lecture- really, he did, but there was just so much he didn't understand that he couldn't help but tune Dee-Jay out a little. There was still that question of what Dee-Jay quite meant by 'destroyed'- Ken could give any number of examples of times Dee-Jay had accused Ken of 'destroying' something, but they could always be fixed. Why should this be any different?

"But this brings us to the second part of the news- the Death Star being destroyed by a single fighter." Ken blinked up at Dee-Jay, then looked back to the datapad- sure enough, scrolled down far enough, Ken could see a new article about the destruction of the Death Star, "You may even recognize the name- the man who destroyed the Death Star goes by the name 'Luke Skywalker'."

That caught Ken's attention.

"...Skywalker... as in Anakin Skywalker... who the Jedi Order thought was the Chosen One and everything? The same Anakin Skywalker who became Darth Vader? HE blew up the Death Star? I thought he was..." Ken started to ask, but Dee-Jay stopped him.

"You seem to not have heard me, Ken- this was not Anakin Skywalker, but Luke Skywalker. They are both very different people." Dee-Jay said, pointing to the name again on the datapad. Ken read it again and realized that, yes indeed, it read 'Luke Skywalker' instead of 'Anakin'.

"...But... who IS Luke Skywalker, anyway?"

* * *

He did not particularly enjoy his line of work- in fact, he rather despised it, unlike some of the others who seemed to take some kind of joy in it. However, he had grown to at least be accepting of it. And, to be fair, not ALL of his so-called partners in crime were as malicious as some- the one who had been assigned the codename 'Darth Beelz'... he wasn't so bad, just as long as he didn't bite. And the other one, 'Darth Phegor'... not much of a talker, but a good listener... or maybe it was just that he was too lazy to say anything. In any case, he wouldn't have taken this opportunity if the bargain hadn't been offered with the additional threat of 'Join us, or you can go back to being a prisoner in these spice mines and eventually put to death in a particularly nasty fashion.'

And here he was, so-called 'Darth Levitan', willingly going to his master to report.

"My lord..." His voice echoed horribly in the empty, dark hallway, at the door before him. Everything was so black and shadowed that it was almost as though he was standing in the middle of nothing. If it weren't for the floor beneath his feet, he almost would have sworn that he was merely floating in a lightless void.

"What is it, Darth Levitan?" The doors slid open and he felt a chill rush over his skin, like being plunged into arctic waters with no clothing to protect him. How the others ever stood this, he'd never understand- then again, 'Darth Mammon' and 'Darth Lucefria' were already in deep enough as it was, it wouldn't surprise him if those two were possessed by some sort of kindred spirit to their lord and master, himself.

But that was why he was taking this audience, personally. If he'd merely passed the information on to those two, they would have taken credit for it, themselves. Of course, if the Emperor was displeased, it meant HE'D be the one to die, but then again, at least he wouldn't have to make a noose for himself.

"I have learned some information regarding the subject of your experiments." He reported, still not taking a step inside the room. Part of it was because he didn't want to seem to arrogant, and of course, he had not yet been invited to approach the Emperor, but there was also the fact that he didn't want to be anywhere near the man, nor past the doors when they could so easily slam shut behind him and leave him effectively trapped.

"That situation has been dealt with- or are you referring to something else?" The Emperor sounded annoyed, which made him glad he was still outside the doors.

"Sometime prior to his relocation, the subject produced an offspring." He said, succinctly. The Emperor made no noise to indicate surprise or even that he'd heard his report, but that was perfectly acceptable given how much he didn't want to make the Emperor mad.

"An offspring?" The Emperor's voice finally asked. He nodded, then realized that, given he couldn't see the Emperor, the Emperor probably couldn't see him.

"Yes sir. A male Human child, to be precise." He said. There was a pause, before the Emperor's voice spoke from the shadows again.

"Enter the room- there isn't time to waste." Oh, lovely. Just lovely. Not wanting to risk anyone's ire, he did as he was told, before coming to a halt almost immediately inside the doors. They slid shut, locking with a click almost immediately. Inside, there was enough dim light that he could see the Emperor's figure on his throne, but there was something else that caught the light just enough to stand out directly to his right.

"I have already become aware of the developments concerning that experiment- after all, it is much easier to control and use for the correct purposes." The Emperor didn't sound impatient or annoyed, but there was something that made his spine crawl that put him at least on guard, "Strange that you were able to sense it, though, as incapable as you are." He understood what that meant, but did not understand why the Emperor was devoting his precious time to the matter, before he saw the Emperor lift a hand and bid the figure to his right out of the shadows.

"Introductions- this is your new commanding officer, Ysanne Isard, the Director of Imperial Intelligence." He looked up to see half of the face of the woman glaring at him from the shadows- the side of her face that was lighted up was stone hard and stern, though still somewhat young, with a piercing blue eye. From the shadows, a red eye gleamed out of the other half of her face with the same light of a predator hunting at night, but currently waiting to strike instead of ambushing.

"I have heard magnanimous things about you." None of them very complimentary, in his opinion, but that was not important in this world. He was, after all, a defect. And nobody's opinions were worthy of attention compared to the all-mighty Emperor, anyway. Madam Director Isard regarded him as though he had remained silent.

Why had everyone said she was pretty? This woman's appearance couldn't be farther from that description.

"As of today, Director Isard, the First Church of the Dark Side are under your control, though they will also be taking direct orders from myself. You will supply them with proper information so they may appear to be legitimate and from there, everything will be under my direction. Under no circumstances are any of the members to be executed- each of the individuals have defining traits that are of use to us and impossible to find anywhere else. Also, keep note that threats of death would be useless, anyway."

He didn't really mind that he was mostly being ignored by these two- the spice mines had taught him that being ignored could be a much better fate than being despised, especially by those with both the power and the reason to make life very painful for him. But there was some irritation that he was going to be used as a puppet to do this wretched man's bidding.

"Understood." He frowned for a moment, then took pause enough to concentrate- as much as he despised the Emperor, it had been useful being locked up in those spice mines which had been a not-so-clever disguise for death camps. The time he'd spent on an experimentation table with his eyes gouged out to be replaced with new ones would be very useful now.

He saw through the Emperor- all the way through the very flow of time, right down to the moment at this exact same time the very day before... and it was the exact same scene, except with another one of those false 'Darth's that he was supposed to call his accomplices.

"This was a test, then." He said, quietly. Each of them being individually played against each other so they each made a grab for the glory and prize, and simultaneously testing their strengths and weaknesses to be of use to the Empire.

It was so perfect. And it made him sick.

"Correct. Now, without further ado, now that you have proven to be useful, Darth Levitan, it is time for you to know who you are. From this moment on, you are the complete public replacement for the real Prophet of the Dark Side- Prophet Gornash. This is your name, now."

Gornash. Interesting- at least it had some sort of elegance to it. And, really, it could have been worse.

"I understand." Gornash said, bowing so low that his newly grown beard touched the floor. In the faint light he saw his reflection- a young face completely hidden by hair that had been dyed black, with only the faintest glimmer of his cursed eyes bearing out at them, the scars underneath his lower eyelids burning with disgust and anger.

* * *

_"And so, the wheel has begun to turn." Triclops whispered staring down at the floor. Where his reflection should have been on the rippling, watery surface, the scene of the Death Star exploding was played in fragments- from the briefing of the mission to the tragic deaths of each individual pilot to the face of the young Skywalker as he fired the two fateful blasts._

_None of it brought any trace of joy or even triumph to Triclops' frozen heart. Master Yoda seemed to see this, just as easily._

_"So much to have changed, this is. But a new hope, this gives the galaxy." He said, sagely. Triclops grimaced, looking away and summoning his newest, most horrifying vision yet. A fallen figure in black and standing over him, a newer, fresher, darker figure, sneering down at the crumpled mask of Darth Vader._

_"Now that this child has begun his path along the Force, there is nothing that can prevent the future, now." He simply said, pressing a hand down on the surface and creating ripples, "This child will become a Jedi, far stronger than any the galaxy has seen yet. And then, when his training is almost complete, he will destroy his father and take his place as a Sith."_

_Master Yoda snorted, derisively._

_"So certain are you?" He demanded. Triclops did not look at him, still staring despondently down at the reflection._

_"There can only ever be..." He said, slowly, "...One future..." The reflected surface changed from the future apprentice of the Sith to one that had already seen it's conclusion- the fall of a great Master, the knighting of a terrible Sith, the rise of an evil Emperor... and the burning of an ancient Temple, "Just as this dream became reality, there was nothing to be done... the future will come, regardless of what any of us do."_

_Master Yoda shook his head in disappointment, yet again. Triclops could tell that Master Yoda was expecting at least a more flexible manner of thinking instead of such fatalism, but didn't respond until he was prompted by Master Yoda's next words._

_"But still hope, there is." There was something in Master Yoda's tone that left no room for argument. Triclops either pretended he didn't hear it or truly didn't hear it because he was no longer capable of such a function, but in any case, he refuted the words._

_"Hope..." Another vision appeared- a glimpse of an alleyway littered with the bodies of slaughtered children in Jedi robes, "...The abstract sentiment called hope... was destroyed on that day... such a thing no longer exists in this world."_

_Triclops heard Master Yoda sigh, then his presence faded from the dream, leaving behind only his voice with parting words._

_"Then, what was it that Padawan Orewahime died for?"_

_Triclops closed his eyes, unable to watch the reflections in the floor of a young girl with a braid on the side of her head locked in single combat with one of the oldest and most respected masters of the Jedi Order, still trying to find that bell._

"Who do you think you're talking to? I'm the Greatest Jedi That Ever Lived, remember?"

* * *

"My lord, we have a report from our Sleeping Agent."

"What is it?"

"The flaw in the Death Star that enabled it's destruction... we have found that the thermal exhaust shaft was left unprotected and that a single fighter swept in and delivered a blow that set off a chain reaction that destroyed the entire station."

"...I see."

A/N: This chapter was composed by Myuji. Also- take note that if you decide to go hunt the song down on Youtube or whatever, it's not in English- the lyrics are Japanese.

And... that's where I'll end it. I've decided that the different parts will be done in chapters of 10. The previous fic had chapters of 8, so, this seemed like the best course.


	7. Chapter 7

By Sapadu

Chapter 7: Adagio in G Minor

_It wasn't quite what he'd expected- after all, the experiment had never been meant to have any sort of freedom, let alone be allowed to procreate. Yet, it had happened all the same, and this was not precisely a development to be frowned upon._

_After all, it saved so much trouble as clones had a tendency to cause. Not to mention that, for some reason, all the others seemed to collapse immediately under any sort of strain- he'd have to keep creating and using up new bodies. A naturally born child would prevent that, and a blood connection would make him that more compatible with all this power._

_If this went well, he wouldn't need the clones for his own use- they could be used as decoys and agents to be perfectly manipulated._

_"I see you are in a good mood today." There was only one person who that voice could be- Thus far, his work had been thorough, and incredibly useful. A mind with perfect knowledge of every kind of engineering known to man far superior to any of the mechanics, a complete understanding of psychology that rivaled even the Director of Intelligence, herself, a memory that was filled with history from the very earliest dates of known civilization, and to top it all, a power that he'd never envisioned to be of any use, yet so wonderfully advantageous now that he'd seen it in motion._

_"I have received a report regarding your behavior- others within the Empire are hearing rumors that there is a child with your mark on it." It had been fourteen years ago that he had been first greeted by this useful agent, and seven years ago that he'd been informed of the child. Still, the fact that other, lower members of the Empire were learning about it... displeased him, to say the least._

_"Let them draw their own conclusions- rumors make the truth more difficult to discern, and thus, real motives impossible for anyone to guess." This boy did have a point, there. Even if there was a real truth to be discovered, rumors always were helpful for spreading discord, "Might I assume you are not displeased at the actual fact of this child?"_

_It was, however, increasingly annoying that this person was so damned insightful._

_"You may assume." He said, snappishly. The boy chuckled, smugly, which only meant he knew exactly what kind of nerve he had hit._

_"I have some even more exciting news for you... Father." There was another thing that irritated him about this boy- the utter impudence to use such a word when referring to him, and the dramatic, emphatic pause before using it, as though to boast that this boy was his... product._

_"Out with it, then." He demanded, impatiently. The boy merely smirked._

_"The boy who destroyed the Death Star... he is also a Jedi." That much, he had deduced on his own- after all, who else could have managed to destroy the Death Star with just one shot? Only a Jedi would have had the control and manipulation of anything to truly pull it off. The fact that it had been a mere boy- well, it was unexpected, but still... not nearly as much of a shock as this boy obviously thought it would have been._

_"Is that all? I grow weary of hearing my own knowledge repeated to me." All he heard was the boy snickering behind him._

_"You are not aware of it then... the identity of that Jedi boy?" He swiveled to glare at the impudent agent- as useful as the boy was, he would have no qualms ordering his death if he ceased to hold his tongue, "...That Jedi goes by the name of Luke Skywalker." Now that... that was a surprise, "He is the son of your current apprentice... and will soon be your next- more powerful, even more perfectly shaped for the position. You shall have a better apprentice... Father."_

_This WAS exciting news. Not that he would admit to it._

_"Intriguing. Continue to watch his development- I wouldn't want anything to happen to my next apprentice, after all."_

_The boy bowed again._

_"Of course... Father."_

_Darth Sidious smiled, both in the dream and in his semi-conscious state that was the closest he ever came to sleep._

* * *

"Grew up on Tatooine, raised by his father's half-brother and his wife, Owen and Beru Lars. Never knew who his parents were, except being told a few off-hand comments by his Uncle. Unconsciously used Force powers at an early age for odd tasks such as finding lost tools." Ken read. A month ago, there had been absolutely no information about Luke Skywalker in the archives, at least that Ken had been aware of. Now, suddenly, Dee-Jay was pulling up files on details that Ken wondered if the man himself was even aware of.

Such as the fact that his father was Darth Vader. What must that be like, Ken wondered, to be a direct decedent of a Sith? Did these "Aunt" and "Uncle" people know about Vader? And if they did, how must THEY feel, taking care of his son? And what would Luke Skywalker feel like when and if he ever DID find out?

"...He doesn't know who his parents are, either..." Was all that Ken actually said. A voice right on level with his ear made him jump about a meter in the air and flail about before he realized that Zeebo hadn't been sleeping.

"Sounds like someone I know." The mooka said, lazily. Ken reached up and scratched behind one of the four ears, while Zeebo craned his neck into it.

"I know- freaky, isn't it? But then, during the Republic, Jedi were taken away from their parents and never knew who they were, right? Maybe it's not all that weird. Maybe that's the way things are supposed to be." Ken's hand paused in the scratching, the other still holding onto the datapad as he remained flopped on the floor at the foot of his bed.

Zeebo shook his head and peered over Ken's shoulder at what he was reading.

"...I wonder what Luke Skywalker's like..." The boy mused out-loud. Zeebo groaned and rolled over, trying to get Ken's attention. The boy's eyes were completely fixated on the screen- or, more specifically, at the photo of the subject that was posted with it. For a kid who could only be nineteen, Skywalker looked... well, grown-up for one thing. Probably a picture taken for an id card or something...

"Cute." Zeebo finally commented, which made Ken look away from the screen, if only for a moment. It was quite plain that he didn't understand why his pet would be saying that about a holophoto of a Jedi male, but didn't see anything weird enough about it to question, as he went back to staring, before continuing to read.

"This is the kind of house that was on the Lars' homestead..." Ken flipped down to a second image, this one of a setting- the background being a sandy plain of Tatooine with a single building in the foreground. Dome shaped, to be precise. Ken looked up at the ceiling of his own little round room of a hut, grinning a little, "It's like some kind of fate is involved- maybe when I grow up, I'll end up saving a princess or destroying a giant battle station or something..." Ken kept reading, eventually moving on to the documents regarding Skywalker's parents, "Or maybe I'll discover the princess I save is actually my twin sister."

Ken didn't see Zeebo roll his eyes, but did hear his sarcastic response.

"Yeah, we all gotta have dreams, don't we?" He muttered.

Ken ignored him. And then, perked up and stood, going to search for Chip.

* * *

"A game? It has been a while since we have played together, but why something so... childish?" Chip asked. Ken pulled a face, but paused while thinking up a retort. In a few years, he would learn the wit necessary to reply with 'Because I'm a CHILD!' but for now, couldn't think up an appropriate response, before he finally spoke,

"Who CARES? Let's just play." Ken insisted. Chip didn't budge.

"I do not anticipate Dee-Jay being to receptive of this game- it is not fitting for a boy your age to still..." But Ken cut him off.

"It's actually Jedi Training- I'm calling it a game so it doesn't get boring. See? I'll be LEARNING! Come on, Chip- play with me!" Chip's response was not swift, but when he did reply, the outcome was encouraging.

"Dee-Jay would approve of a learning experience. Very well- let us play 'Jedi', then." Ken beamed, then held out a stick made of wood to Chip. Chip took it and examined it for a moment, before Ken held his up like a sword.

"Okay- you be Darth Vader, I'll be Luke Skywalker, and this is a fight on the Death Star and whoever wins determines if it gets blown up and the Alliance is saved." Ken explained in a bossy tone of voice. Chip tilted his head, still examining the wooden stick.

"That is not historically accurate, Master Ken." He finally said, "And I do not believe that Luke Skywalker has ever really used a lightsaber, let alone fought in a duel."

Ken rolled his eyes.

"Who cares? It's a game." Chip was silent, before Ken amended, "Actually, lightsaber training- C'mon, if I make up stuff to keep it interesting, but KNOW that it's not what REALLY happened, it doesn't matter, as long as I'm LEARNING something, right?" Ken pressed. Chip was silent, this time for an even longer period, before he spoke again. This time, however, the voice module had changed to give off a different kind of speaking tone.

"Draw your saber, young Skywalker." His voice tone had gone deeper, and harsher, something which Ken could only assume was the voice of an imitated Darth Vader and which, though neither of them knew it, sounded absolutely nothing like the real Sith Lord. Ken grinned and held up his own stick as Chip charged with a dramatic yell.

The sticks hit, parried, hit again, and a full-blown sword fight was set into motion despite the fact that neither of the two had a clue what they were doing.

And then, HC caught them.

* * *

"Thanks a lot, HC. We were having fun and YOU ruined it." Ken pouted as Dee-Jay's lecture came to an end. Something about safety, behaving appropriately, and not wasting time, but Ken hadn't listened to any of it, too busy thinking of what he was going to say to HC. HC didn't respond, but Chip helpfully put in,

"Actually, Master Ken, you were the one who was having fun. I am not programmed to do so, and thus..." Ken made a face as Chip's explanation came to a halt, then turned away. Dee-Jay's glowing eyes turned on them as it became obvious that neither Ken nor Chip was listening to him.

"Ken, Chip- this is an important lesson for the both of you. Ken, if you want to learn how to duel and handle a lightsaber, you first have to grow used to your own Force-powers. For the most part, you have yet to truly control your own use of the Force. Before you learn an advanced skill like that, you first should learn how to at least use the Force to control the movement of small objects. And before that, you must learn how to communicate with the Force by your own will instead of at random. And all of this must be..."

"BOR-ING!" Ken said, putting his hands over his ears and rolling his eyes. Dee-Jay remained silent, but Ken could tell he was displeased, if it was possible for droids to be pleased or displeased, at Ken's attitude. And that was how Ken was landed in his dome house for the rest of the day.

Upon the arrival of dinner time, the relevancy of Dee-Jay's lecture became clear enough. Ken's stomach ached and twisted and he had no clue what was going on. Even though he was hungry and thirsty, his whole body seemed to cringe at the very thought of food or anything that could be swallowed or allowed into his stomach. Every nerve in his body was burning and his head hurt like a drill was being bored into one side of his skull and out the other and a lit match was simultaneously being run over his brain.

It was only when he threw up that Dee-Jay came into the room and tried to soothe him into a healthier position to at least think about his punishment.

Unlike normal diseases or any kind of food poisoning, however, the feeling lingered, even grew as the moments passed. His head went from feeling too heavy for his neck to feeling too light for his body, and his arms and legs felt matchstick thin, like they would break if he tried to so much as move them. And then, of course, there was the fact that they also felt like there was some sort of gap between all of his joints- as though the ligaments that held his knees together were being stretched miles and miles away from his body. Ken could feel his toes, but it was as though they'd been cut off of his feet and he was only just feeling the phantom limbs.

"What is wrong with him?" There seemed to be a space between his ears and his head. He understood and recognized the words, even knew they were important... but it was as though he were really reading about someone else's life written as an empathetic story. He didn't feel like he was in his own body.

"This's probably the first sign of Force Empathy... feeling the pain, suffering, and emotions of other living beings in the galaxy, even though they're far away..." If he'd been even a little more conscious, he would have realized that he didn't recognize the other voice. However, Ken couldn't even recognize Dee-Jay and Chip's voices, nor that the intonations of their voices was almost worried or possibly saddened, if droids could have real emotions.

"But a reaction like this surely could not be caused by the Force... it is simply unnatural..." But thinking about it all hurt his head and his stomach and his throat and his lungs and his heart. Everything just... ached. It was as though every individual cell was dying inside him, one at a time, from the inside out.

"You're right- it's not natural. The Force didn't cause this, all it's causing is Ken to feel the same pain. A Human woman is what's causing this. If she can even be called Human at this point."

_so hungry_

_my whole family's home gone_

_so_

_they took my son_

_hungry_

_where did mommy go_

_so so_

_the whole city burned_

_all imports stopped_

_we must obey now_

_i'll do anything_

_please just feed us_

_HUNGRY_

"You know who it is, then? Do you perhaps know a method that will stop him from having such a violent reaction- Ken has not yet learned how to control how much he receives from the Force."

_where did you take my children_

_it's all that woman's fault_

_we never should have helped those people_

_the emperor is the only way to survive now_

_just give me food_

_anything_

"There's only one person it could be- the lesser officers of the Rebellion dub her 'Iceheart'. But the rest of us survivors simply call her 'Bloody Anne'- she's responsible for more deaths in just these few years than the whole entirety of the Clone Wars caused."

_ANYTHING_

"_Just stop it all... please..."_

"_I will try to, Ken."_

Then, a blessed darkness came, but Ken still felt that incredible sickness and pain.

A/N: The Adagio in G Minor was composed by Albinoni and Giazotto.

Aaaaand... yeah... um, did you catch the stuff about Luke in here? That's BIG.

And for the confused, Ken's feeling the effects of Ysanne Isard's punishment of Toprawa, which helped the Rebels destroy the Death Star. She essentially starved millions of people, destroyed cities, and ruined their economy, so lots and lots of people died. Yeah- she's a bitch, but important in this story. I'm gonna poke at her whenever I can.


	8. Chapter 8

By Sapadu

Chapter 8: Life is Like a Boat

"_You make me wanna strain at the oars and soon, I can see the shore."_

A month passed and, while Ken did not get worse, he certainly did not get any better. Mehgan Retaw had never stayed so long in the Lost City, and a good deal of it was spent watching over Ken when DJ-88 or Microchip couldn't. He had to be given food through a needle because he was practically always asleep, or if he woke up, he was never conscious enough to chew and swallow his own food without choking on it or half of it falling out of his mouth.

Mehgan knew well enough why that was- she could feel it too. The utter agony, anguish, anger, fear, sorrow, despair, and so many other things of a whole planet so far away. She'd felt all the cries of the planet Alderaan as it had been destroyed, and she was sure Ken had felt that, too, but this was different. Alderaan and it's people had been demolished in a split second. The pain had been sharp, but brief before all the voices of the planet had been wiped into silence.

This... this was taking days and weeks and months. Some people died quickly, others slowly, and everyone was suffering for so, so long. Some people were killed in the bombings of their cities, some people by the fires that were spread, some people by the suffocating smoke that rose from those fires, some people by the dryness in their throats that the cut off from water caused, some by the emptiness in their stomachs, some by the desperation for something to eat that had driven them to poisonous plants, some by stormtroopers. There were some people that Mehgan had the feeling were deliberately being taken apart, piece by piece, to be used as an example.

She wondered if the people of Alderaan had even suffered at all when their planet was blown up from under their feet, or if, by the time they realized what was happening, it was already done with.

Ken's head turned on his pillow. His eyes were open, but glassy and dazed, gleaming silver with a hazy look of being completely lost to the world. Mehgan felt her heart flinch inward, as though being squeezed, before she reached over and put a hand over his eyes. Ken's mouth opened, worked soundlessly for a few moments, before stilling and a trail of drool coming out of the corner. His cheeks were gray-ish white, unlike normal. Sure, Ken was normally pale from having never seen the sun, but he at least had rosy cheeks from always being active and healthy. This was utter pallor.

It was strange, but aside from the whole fact that he was a boy, Ken looked so indescribably like his mother had at this age. DJ-88 hadn't given Ken a hair cut for the longest time, so it was down to his shoulders and spilled all over his pillow in that same brown color that Kendalina's hair had been when she had been young. His eyes were the same silvery gray, even though he could actually see instead of needing the Force for that. His nose was sloped in the same curve, his cheeks high, but his jaw square and a chin that, for a boy, was small and pointed, but for a woman, would have been big and strong. Hell, even his ears had the same long shape with little tufts of down hair on the ends that made them look like lynx ears.

Mehgan sort of wished that this might help Ken develop his control a little better. After all, a horse with no reins wouldn't pull a cart. Something like this might make Ken grow a little more surely, more appropriately. If he never understood the need for it, he'd never be able to control himself. And, maybe she thought this might work the same way immunization did- once Ken had experienced it, he'd develop a tolerance for it, and thus learn how to stop such things as this from overpowering him completely.

Then, there was another part of her that was really wishing that Ken would, instead of growing stronger in the Force, push it away. That the mere experience of all of this would force Ken to pull away from his Jedi heritage altogether. That, maybe, feeling what kind of pain and suffering others had to go through like this would free him from this destiny of not having a choice- that he could chose to be something other than a Jedi after this.

If nothing else... Mehgan was certain that Kendalina would have wanted her child to be able to have a choice.

That was another thing that bothered Mehgan- She'd been at the House of Zuka for years on end and knew what they were like. Every single birth in that cursed house had always shared the same trait- every child had been born with either a twin or triplets, or, very, very rarely, quadruplets. Kendalina had even been part of a triplet's set, even though the two boys had died, and Mehgan had learned, somewhat alarmingly, about Dalhouise's would-be older twin sister had Ibal and Mina Zuka not interfered. It was something very odd about their genes, but it happened, just the same. Every time, without fail, not a single child had been born alone.

So then... why was Ken the only child between Kendalina and Triclops? Why had Mehgan only been entrusted with this son, instead of two boys, or a girl and a boy? Was it a sign that, maybe, Kendalina had lost one of the two? Or had she been forced to give up another child, so she could protect Ken? Or...

Or...

"_Kendalina? I have no daughter by that name? I wasn't even aware I HAD a daughter."_

Or maybe, Kendalina wasn't a member of the House of Zuka, at all. Yes- that wretched mother of hers... she could have had an affair or... or something... and Kendalina had been a result of that infidelity. Not carrying the trait to have twins. Logically, it made sense...

But the Force was telling Mehgan something different. Something wasn't right with that theory. It made for a good excuse, but not a reason. There was something she was missing. But what?

* * *

"_Somehow, I ended up back here, again." Ken muttered, more to himself. He felt... what was a word for it? Despondent. He was tired, but even though he was asleep, he didn't feel like he was really resting. He wanted his mind to sleep, too. He wanted everything to go to sleep._

_Even though he wasn't awake, he could still feel the aches and pains and he had... well, he had an IDEA of why he was feeling them, but he had virtually no clue how to stop it. Okay- so, learn some control. And how did he do THAT?_

"_I end up here a lot, too." Said a new voice. Ken turned around and saw what looked like practically a mirror staring back at him, except it couldn't be. Ken could do nothing but stand and stare, utterly at a loss for who this person was._

_They looked... well, the idea that he was looking at a mirror wasn't too bad for a metaphor. They had the same face, same eyes, same hair. They were just as tall as him, and almost the exact same shape. The only difference was that this person's hair was up in a braid on the side of their head._

_And... they were female._

"_...Um... who are you?" Ken finally asked, pointing. The female person tipped her head, then frowned._

"_First off, how's 'bout you tell me who YOU are?" She said. Her voice sounded... a lot like Ken's, had he been born a girl. Except it was louder. And bossier._

"_...You... you can call me Ken." He finally managed. He didn't really want to tell this person who he was if she was going to be like this. The female raised an eyebrow, stuck out her lower lip, but shrugged and seemed to accept it._

"_Then you can call me Lina." She said. Ken blinked._

"_Okay then... um, Lina..." Ken said, sitting down. He folded his legs under him and sat on his feet. Lina, in contrast, flopped down and sat like she was planning to either do floor stretching or kick someone, legs bend in awkward directions and feet apart._

"_So... why're you here?" Ken asked, finally, when Lina was done laughing at him for 'being such an idiot to sit in that weirdass position.' Lina recovered and shrugged._

_"Dunno- guess it's just what happens when I sleep." Lina said, tugging on her braid, idly. Ken blinked for a moment, while she stared at him._

_Seriously, he could see his reflection in those eyes of hers. It was... pretty creepy._

"_Whadda 'bout you?" She finally asked. There was something weird about her voice... it wasn't all the same way as droids spoke, but had this kind of... twanging... noise to it. She pronounced some things... not really the wrong way, but still... weird._

"_I'm sleeping, too... though..." Ken paused and thought, "...It might be because of... what's happening..." Lina raised an eyebrow._

"_Happening?"_

"_...Lately... I've been feeling something really weird, been making me sick. And it's not like there's something wrong with ME- it's like someone else is sick, but I'M doing all the throwing up for them." Ken said, wondering if there was a better way to say it._

"_You mean... it's like there's something inside of you that's not inside of you at the same time?" She asked, quietly. Ken blinked at her, "Yeah- I get that a lot, too. One time, I felt something so bad that I threw up. It was really creepy because nobody knew what it was."_

_Ken blinked at the girl, then frowned._

"_So, wait... who ARE you, really?" He asked, confused. Lina stuck her tongue out at him._

"_Like I'm gonna tell YOU. In any case, Ma-" But then she stopped, a word or name of some sort almost falling out of her mouth when it was quite apparent that she really didn't want to talk about whoever it was. Ken pouted, but scooted in a bit closer, catching the almost revealed name of someone._

"_Ma? Who's Ma? That a woman? Or a man? Or a droid? Or what?" Ken pushed, guessing at possibilities. It was something that worked with Dee-Jay when Ken was stumped, to keep guessing and eventually, he got close to the answer. Instead of giving him hints, however, Lina's face warped. Her eyebrows lowered and her eyes narrowed as her lips stuck out._

"_Are you just stupid? What else would you call your mother?"_

_Ken blinked._

"_What's a mother?"_

_This was apparently the wrong thing to say- Lina's rant began with some choice words that Ken didn't recognize but was not entirely sure it would be a good idea to ask Dee-Jay what they meant, and ended on the note of a very creative insult which made Ken feel like someone had suctioned all his brains out, and the whole middle of it had been even worse to experience than one of Dee-Jay's disciplinary lectures. By the time she was done, Ken had completely forgotten any of the conversation before hand, except that he'd mentioned he was feeling sick._

"_And even if you are, that doesn't say why you're HERE of all places- I mean, shouldn't you be awake and getting better?" Lina pushed, forcing Ken to talking. Ken blinked at her for a moment, before the idea began to make sense- after all, what he was doing right now wasn't really helping, he was fairly sure, but..._

"_...But... going back HURTS." Ken said, quietly. Even as he was sleeping, he could still feel the dull ache and throb that whatever it was was causing. Still, here in a dream, it was lesser, not as important, somehow more distant from him, where he didn't have to worry about it._

"_So? Lotsa stuff hurts. I've gotten hurt a lot- you don't see me digging in my heels and staying asleep all the time." Lina looked... well, less expressive, for a moment, but at the same time, she also seemed tired, but awake at the same time. It was only because Ken had never seen a human face except for his own in the mirror that he didn't know how to put it, but there was the strangest look in Lina's eyes, "Other people hurt too- It's nothing special that you feel something like pain, or hurt, or sadness. What really matters is how you deal with it- someone who can face up to their problems instead of running away or losing control is the person that should be admired here..."_

_Ken had to think about that a bit, but a lot of the stuff about pain was really lost on him. Honestly, he'd hurt himself in some rather token ways in the past, but it was really nothing compared to now. And the droids never showed any signs of anything like what he was going through. So... what did it really matter?_

_Maybe the fact that it hurt wasn't what scared Ken quite so much- it was that he didn't understand it. Not understanding things... bothered him, for some reason. Maybe it was because there was a lot about himself that he didn't understand and that Dee-Jay and Chip had refused to answer when questioned, or maybe it was because, since he didn't understand himself, it meant that there were... flaws... to logical thinking. That things existed which COULDN'T be explained. That was just... wrong._

_Lina seemed to realize what Ken was thinking, because she put something else in._

"_What would it take for you to understand that?" She asked, frowning, and when Ken just stared at her, she kept talking, "What do I have to say that will make it possible for you to understand what I'm saying?"_

_Ken said nothing, not sure of how to answer- partially, he believed that it was really impossible for him to understand. How could he? It was something that couldn't be understood. How this stranger of a girl did it was beyond him. After all, how was it possible for everyone to go through this? How was Ken supposed to understand the idea of everyone if he didn't know ANYONE?_

_'I wonder what Luke Skywalker's like...'_

_Well... maybe that wasn't quite true..._

"_Everyone... has to go through stuff like this?" Ken asked, quietly. Lina blinked at him, probably because of his tone of voice, but answered accurately enough._

"_Yeah. Everyone. No matter who they are." Lina said. Ken put a finger to his lower lip, thinking about it for a moment._

"_Okay... thanks."_

* * *

"_Smart, boy." Viro's voice sounded amused, for once, as they watched the two, practically identical, pair interact. Triclops remained silent, but he cast his other face a questioning glance._

"_What do you mean, 'Smart'?"_

"_I'm just saying I think it was smart of you to push one of your memories of the girl into the kiddo's head- Y'know... he gets to know his mom a little, and learns something about Human nature and stuff like that..." Viro trailed off at the look on Triclops' face._

"_...I... did not do that... I..." Triclops pointed at the scene of Ken and the girl whom they had thought was a younger version of Kendalina talking, "Had nothing to do with this... I assumed it was YOU who was..."_

_Viro's expression was growing just as concerned at Triclops'._

"_I'd NEVER do something like that... At most, I'd do it to YOU as a joke, and even then, it'd be pretty tasteless, which is why I WOULDN'T do it..." As Viro ended in his explanation, the two of them could do nothing but just stare at each other, in complete shock and confusion, before looking back at what was going on in the dreamscape. Ken had vanished, presumably because he'd woken up, but the girl still remained, looking in their direction..._

_She could SEE them._

_And then, she was gone._

* * *

"And that is the situation as it rests now." Concluded Madame Director Isard. Gornash had listened mostly in a daze- the information had sunk in, but he really wanted to pretend that it was just a script he was memorizing for a play that he was about to participate in. It took the sting out of the real truth.

The false Sith with the guise of Darth Mammon, aliased as 'Kadann', rose from the table. He had obviously been listening with more attentiveness than Gornash had been, though for what purpose, Gornash didn't understand. On his feet, Kadann was just barely over a meter tall- he couldn't have possibly been a Human, though that conclusion mostly came from the fact that Gornash could see the unusual shape his hood made, which could only have come from having long, pointed ears.

"That's all very well and good, Madame Director Isard. However, I would be very interested in knowing some more about the contact we have this information from- it wouldn't do if we based such important public statements as these prophecies on flawed facts." His voice had an obvious sneer to it, even though his beard and hood hid his face.

Gornash had been observing Director Isard for the entirety of the meeting with one of his special sets of eyes and by now, he had her expressions down to every last twitch of her eyebrow. Now, as her lips thinned and the corner of her red eye furthest from her nose trembled, almost imperceptibly, he knew that she was growing very angry. It was probably only the order of the Emperor himself that the seven of them were not, under any circumstances, to be killed that was keeping her from ordering their deaths at this moment for that single moment of impudence.

Doubtless, however, that many, many of her own soldiers would be sent to a horrible, unnatural death after this. Gornash almost felt pity for those soldiers, if it weren't for the fact that he could see, with his own unusual eyes, that many of the victims would be the same soldiers who had been posted guards at the spice mines.

'Serves them right.' He thought.

Then, there was the troubling fact that she was also in the midst of punishing an entire planet for their assistance in the destruction of the Death Star. Suppose that she decided that her own soldiers would not be sufficient, but instead, to kill off the innocent civilians?

Gornash kept his head bowed and concentrated on his multiplication tables.

"You needn't worry yourself, Supreme Prophet..." The Director said, stiffly. Gornash could tell that it was only because they were in an information briefing regarding the progress of the war with the Alliance that she was even attempting to keep her calm, "The informant we have regarding these matters has great credentials- the Emperor himself listens to his information."

Well, bully for the Emperor. Gornash wished they could have this damned meeting over with so he could go back to pretending to be a so-called Prophet of the Dark Side when all he was was the fixer of the 'Magical Herbal Tea' which supposedly gave their esteemed Supreme Prophet his 'Visions' which then either kept the public faith or instilled fear in the wavering traitors. He'd gotten good at mixing herbs, and at least it was a mindless task.

Unlike the mixing of poisons.

"And once these prophecies have been written and published for the citizens of the Empire to see, suppose that something to the contrary happens? I cannot imagine that the Emperor would be very pleased with being proved wrong." Kadann goaded, pressing a further rage into Director Isard. Gornash estimated that was another twenty lives who would be forfeit.

"The Emperor has foreseen that not all this information will be infallible. He has prepared a special agent for you for such occasions." Director Isard was being even more curt than before, before a new being entered the room. Gornash eyed him, mistrustfully, but gave no outward indication of it. He was a thin man, all in black, even with a cloak to cover his body, and a face that could never have seen sunlight framed by stringy black hair, "Lord Zuka comes from a long line of assassin specialists, all with unusual talents that the Emperor has found valuable. In the unlikely event that a published prophecy does not come to fruition on it's own, Lord Zuka will... correct the matter."

This Lord Zuka, whoever he was, gave all of the assembled prophets a sweeping glance. Something about his eyes seemed completely unnatural, as though by so much as looking at them, Gornash felt as though he were looking into the eyes of something even greater than Human or Mortal.

Lord Zuka's eyes landed on Gornash and, for the briefest of seconds, he felt an inexplicable chill run down his back. Then, it passed as the man's eyes moved elsewhere. Immediately following came the thought that, maybe, Lord Zuka was deliberately doing this to all of the assembled to get the message across to them that he was not to be trifled with. Regardless of what he'd meant to convey, that message was what he'd gotten across, anyway.

"So, what'd you think of her?" This conversation was after the meeting, and all had been excused to go about their 'Prophesying duties'. For Gornash, this meant making Kadann his tea. For Darth Beelz, whom had been dubbed 'Tilus', this meant re-reading the scripts on specific prophecies that they were supposed to report whenever they had public appearances, and demolishing a few small mountains of food as he did so.

Really, what would the public think of this? Perhaps it was all chalked up to the tea making having to be some sort of special ceremony or else it wouldn't give the right future-seeing powers or something like that.

"About Madame Director Isard?" Gornash clarified. Tilus' mustache and beard flickered a little as he huffed out a noise that could only be confirming that Gornash had guessed right, "I do not feel comfortable expressing any opinions when they may lead to unnecessary violence."

"What makes you think that it'll lead to... unnecessary violence?" Tilus asked, his footfalls echoing unnecessarily loudly in the empty hallway, "And what makes you think she'll hear or get mad?"

"Because she's a bitch and deserves to burn in Hell." Snapped a voice behind them. Tilus jumped as high as he could- not very high, but the fact that someone could startle him seemed potentially dangerous, given his weight. Gornash, stoic as ever, turned around and frowned down at the short, skinny man right behind them- Darth Noma, he'd been named, though damned if Gornash could remember the other alias he'd been given.

"I was going to put it more diplomatically, but... fair enough." Gornash said, shrugging a little. That woman, if she was listening, had probably just condemned another thirty, or maybe fifty, to a premature death. Darth Noma was one person that Gornash didn't quite know if he liked or disliked- his temper was short and his tongue was sharp, but he didn't quite have the same... what was the word for it? Viciousness... as some others.

The best, Gornash thought, was that at least he wouldn't really care if this man died, while Tilus and Darth Phegor would be missed and Kadann and Darth Lucefria, also known as Jedgar, would be sent off with good riddance.

"Why do you ask, Fatso?" Darth Noma demanded. His question was never answered because Tilus almost immediately lost his temper at the mere syllable, 'Fat', and Gornash had to step in, quickly sending them in opposite directions with a simple push with the right amount of energy applied to his fingertips.

He'd only seen a real Sith in action once, but it had been enough for him to memorize this technique that he used. Hell, he didn't even know HOW it worked- all he knew was that he could DO it.

Tilus, having rolled back onto his feet, also seemed to have caught onto this, as had Darth Noma and a yawning, drawling voice behind him which announced Darth Phegor's arrival.

"All in favor of the nickname 'Copy-Cat Eyes' for Gornash, say 'Aye'." Tilus said, raising his hammy fist. Gornash rolled his eyes as Darth Noma and Darth Phegor also raised their hands, though Darth Phegor with the complaint of,

"It's such a pain to have to remember a new name, when I just finished getting used to the whole Darth thing..." Perhaps it was because Tilus and Darth Phegor were so laid back that Gornash particularly liked them- at the very least, they were the least likely to want someone else to die. Always a good trait to look for when looking for friends. And, in any case, they were the closest to friends that he was going to find for many, many years.

It was as Gornash was relaxing his eyes that it happened- Instead of opening his eyes to the room he had been in a moment ago, he found himself in a black, featureless terrain, staring into the face of a man easily ten years older than him. With white hair and eyes greener than sin.

'You are the same as me.' He said.

Gornash said nothing.

'Take care of him. When the time comes.'

And then, it was all gone.

A/N: Someone astutely guessed that all the chapters were song titles and lyrics (I guess Adagio in G minor kinda gave it away, ne?) I'll go back and put the artist names at the end of each chapter, now- It just occurred to me that otherwise, it might be copyright infringments. Today's chapter title is by Rie Fu.

On that note, I'll see everyone in the next chapter. Before I get any questions regarding the 'Bad guys', just note that not everything is as it seems. And, really, a lot of this is fanon- I'm making it up completely, with absolutely no basis on the books. Such as the idea that Kendalina had any kind of family, and they'd be out to get her son, or Triclops' mother also being his aunt, or all these Prophets of the Dark Side having any kind of past or history or personalities. On the other hand, that's what makes it fun, because there's nothing in the books to DISPUTE it. It COULD be true.

... Oh, wait... it's just fiction... heh heh heh... I'm an idiot...


	9. Chapter 9

By Sapadu

Chapter 9: Mr. Brightside

"_Destiny is calling me. Open up my eager eyes."_

It was dead silent in the room as Ken finally opened his eyes. Everything was blurry and his head still ached and throbbed and the rest of his body was so worn and tired that he felt like he'd been running for the past three weeks without stopping instead of sleeping it all away. But it wasn't frightening the way that it had been when Ken had first felt it.

Somehow, not being so scared of it seemed to make the pain... not lesser or faded, but less important. It still hurt beyond anything he could have ever imagined, but it didn't matter anymore.

After a moment, he sat up, head spinning but not so much that he wanted to throw up again. The room was empty- Dee-Jay probably couldn't spend all his time watching over Ken, but he wondered why Chip or HC weren't there. Ken had been so sure he'd felt and heard... SOMEone hovering over him while he'd been sick, someone who he had never heard the voice of before, who couldn't be one of the droids.

Ken's stomach flinched and Ken curled up again, shuddering, but the feeling passed, fading back into the rhythmic throb with the rest of his body. It still spooked him a little, but he felt... like he had a direction to go. Like, instead of having to put up with it, he could do something. He didn't know what, but he knew he had to do SOMEthing. Breathing in for a few moments, Ken pushed the covers back and put a foot on the floor. His toes tingled with the cold, and his ankle felt like it would shatter if he dared put any weight on it, but Ken let it rest there before he felt brave enough to try the other foot.

Standing was another matter altogether. Almost immediately, his knees buckled, aching and cringing like they were rusted and unscrewed. Ken threw up his hands to break the fall, but as he landed, the shock that ran up through his arms felt like his bones all the way up to his shoulder were being set on fire and splitting completely in half. Elbows folding and dropping his head to the floor, Ken scrunched his eyes shut, tears leaking out with a whimper.

"_Other people hurt too- It's nothing special that you can feel something like pain or hurt or sadness."_

Did other people REALLY feel this? It didn't seem possible. After all, if everyone else in the galaxy felt this kind of pain, how would anyone DO anything? They'd always be sleeping in bed or in chairs, not moving.

Maybe that's why there were only droids here- This place was so important that fragile things like Humans couldn't be trusted to care for it properly. Dee-Jay had told Ken that on numerous occasions how vital this place would be if the Jedi Order were ever to flourish again, and that's why they were so secluded, run completely by droids- Humans and other living beings weren't reliable. They could lie and betray things.

It was almost as though, by being Human, Ken was somehow... defective... in this place.

"_What matters is how you deal with it."_

Still shuddering, Ken propped himself up on his elbows and knees and started to crawl across the enormous floor over to his desk where the file on Luke Skywalker had been left. There HAD to be something in there that would help, he was sure of it.

Besides, it was the only file he had in the datapad.

Every centimeter of the floor seemed to just mock him for having to cross it so slowly. His arm felt stretched as he tried to extend it, like his body was constructed of wire and cloth instead of bone and muscle. His fingers felt as though they would snap as he tried to pull himself across the floor, like they were too fragile to grip the floor without crumbling. Fortunately, he made it to the desk and managed to reach up and pull down the datapad but his hand shook and his whole back was spasming with cold. The datapad fell from his fingers and clattered on the floor, but didn't break, enough that Ken reached out again and dragged it along the floor toward him as he curled up to keep warm.

The screen glowed blue, then flickered on as the file loaded, but when it did, the heading at the top of the screen read 'Force Sense'.

Someone... had changed the files. Ken didn't know who or why or when, but he didn't care- it was something and it... sounded familiar. He read on. The ability to sense different phenomena through the Force. The ability to feel other beings feelings, the future, events of great magnitude, danger, and the Dark Side. He'd definitely read about this before. And, now that he thought about it, he could remember hearing things during the earlier stages of whatever it was that was making him sick right now. Voices.

Ken was going to safely assume that this was Force Empathy at work. It would explain why he was feeling so much pain, but not actually injured in any way. Or why he was getting sick, but wasn't actually ill.

He kept reading, looking for more information- there HAD to be something.

Mostly controlled by the will of the user, like most every Force-power. That didn't surprise him. But there had to be something else- if it was will alone, he would have been over this a month ago instead of still feeling sick. Maybe it was something about concentration and control- that seemed to work with other Force-powers.

Concentration... maybe...

Ken closed his eyes- staring at the blue screen was making his head spin, anyway. He breathed in, feeling a shudder in his sides like someone was pulling his ribcage apart, but ignoring the pain as best he could. It still hurt, but he couldn't think about it. He had to think about something else.

He imagined that there was... something in the way... something protecting him, shielding him from everything, keeping him safe inside a circle of... something...

For some reason, the something that was protecting him looked an awful lot like a Human figure- in his minds eye, he imagined a person standing over him, wielding a lightsaber and striking down all the hurtful things that were determined to hit him. There wasn't a face or anything that Ken could see, but that was because the person had his back to him, but Ken had this feeling of knowing the person, even if a little.

(A/N: ...We all KNOW who he's thinking of, right?)

While the shock and pain didn't completely disappear, Ken felt like a weight had been lifted clear off of him. At any rate, his arms and legs and body stopped tingling and aching. His head still hurt and his stomach was writhing while his throat burned and cracked as he so much as swallowed, but he probably hadn't had water and real food for the whole time that he was sick.

And his inner elbow REALLY hurt.

The minute he started thinking about that, the pain started to come back- the image of a defender became blurry and less real. Almost immediately, Ken started to imagine some different images- a person in front of him, behind him, on either side, running around in a circle, fighting all the horrible things off, driving them back, sometimes even cutting them down so they never rose up again.

With a frown, Ken imagined the figure protecting him to be, not just saving him, but keeping him safe.

When he opened his eyes again, everything was exactly the same as it had been when he'd fallen asleep. At the same time, nothing was the same- it was like he could see different colors that he hadn't before, or hearing noises that were completely new to his ears. The whole entirety of his room suddenly seemed very different as he stared at the gray walls, gray floor, gray furniture, and gray everything that he'd ever owned.

It seemed so dulled. Fuzzy, blurry, like he was staring at his own life through frosted over glass. It wasn't real life- it was just survival. He was alive, but not living. He functioned, moved, ate, slept, and breathed, but it was all automated, all orchestrated by a program or autopilot.

But he hadn't actually lived at all.

* * *

"Pain- noun- Physical suffering or distress, as due to injury, illness, etc. Mostly caused by negative reactions to the body, such as cuts, scrapes, bruises, or infections, sending signal through nervous system to the brain in effort for cause of pain to be corrected, ensuring the being's physical continuation and well-being, upon which the pain will cease."

"I KNOW what it IS, Dee-Jay! What I'm asking is if you guys ever feel it? I mean, come on- EVERYONE does, right?" Ken demanded, punching the blankets with his fist while Dee-Jay continued to simply stare. He said nothing, nor made any movements, and as it became clear that Dee-Jay had no intentions of answering, Ken turned to Chip.

After stopping himself from returning to illness, Ken had gone out to find the droids. For some reason, all of the droids had been in the Library, Dee-Jay repairing Chip and HC's programming and circuits, but Ken had heard Dee-Jay talking with someone else just until Ken came around the corner. At that point, Dee-Jay had stopped what he'd been doing and marched Ken back to bed. Apparently, he had been in that semi-self induced coma for close to a year now- Dee-Jay had told him he was almost nine- and because he had been sick for so long, the droids wanted to be sure he would recover from the muscle dystrophy and malnourishment.

Hence, Ken was still confined to his room.

Chip did not respond, except to turn back to Dee-Jay, whom finally began to speak.

"How do you know that, quote, un-quote, Everyone feels pain, Ken? Was that something you felt while you were sick?" Ken made a face as best he could.

"Kind of- there was this girl inside my head while I was sleeping. She was the one who told me that, anyway, so I just wanna know. Was she right? Do YOU guys feel it?"

Dee-Jay did not answer for a long time, before Ken heard him make a noise that might have been a sigh.

"We are droids, Ken- we cannot feel anything. We have no nerves, nor brains, nor even physical attributes such as skin and blood to be injured by. You should know this by now." Was his answer. Ken blinked at him, feeling a very cold tingle go down his spine. It was a strange kind of answer- one that Ken didn't know if it reassured him or just made him more nervous. Eying the old droid cautiously, Ken rephrased the question.

"So... she was wrong, whoever she was? NOT everyone feels pain..." Ken asked, almost certain the answer had to be yes, but Dee-Jay's mechanical head shook.

"No, she was right, Ken." Ken squinted and wrinkled his nose, "Everyone does feel pain. We do not, however." Ken's frown deepened.

"But... But but but... you just SAID... if YOU guys don't feel pain, then that's not EVERYONE, right?" Dee-Jay continued to shake his head.

"No Ken- Droids are not part of everyone. Living creatures are different from robots and machines, in many other ways- we do not eat, breathe, sleep, reproduce, live, or die. Living creatures do, and as such, have vastly different functions. The ability to feel pain is one of them- without it, Humans and other creatures are not aware of it when something is wrong with their body, be it physical discomfort from improper temperatures or living conditions, or severe pain due to illness or injury. Because they feel pain, they know when something is wrong and take measures to correct it, thus ensuring survival."

Ken blinked, then blinked again, then frowned.

"But... droids have that TOO- what about when software isn't working, or when your chips are broken, or... or... something!? Don't you feel when THAT happens?" Ken pushed, but Dee-Jay shushed him.

"Damage and malfunctions are different- when something is not functioning properly in droids, our programming alerts us so we know to be repaired. That is different from feeling pain." When Ken opened his mouth to worm in an argument, Dee-Jay continued to talk over him, "Think of it like this: When you fall and scrape your knee, you bleed and shout a little, but are able to recover and in a few days, the scratch is gone. If Chip does the same thing, his outer covering may be a little damaged, but it does not impair him in anyway and the scratch remains until the next time he is cleaned and replated. That is the difference between you two."

Difference. The word somehow hit Ken somewhere inside that he hadn't thought it was possible to be hit. It was like being told that he was... well, just different wasn't hurtful, but it almost seemed to be saying that, because he was different from the droids, he was... imperfect, somehow.

As though it meant he didn't belong.

Maybe that's what it DID mean, anyway.

"Do you understand that, Ken?"

Ken just blinked at Dee-Jay, but said nothing for a long, long time, before he tried to change the subject.

"There was someone next to me while I was sleeping." He said, slowly. Dee-Jay said nothing to disprove this- something Ken had learned meant that he was right, but Dee-Jay either didn't want to or was programmed not to talk to Ken about, "Who was it?"

Dee-Jay did not reply for several minutes, probably calculating how he could answer within his orders, before he finally replied,

"That person was caring for you- to be sure you did not become even more ill." It was something that Ken had grown to accept long ago, but it didn't mean he liked it any better- that irritating habit of all the droids for being able to answer his questions to the letter without giving any information whatsoever.

"I got this feeling of familiarity. Like I'd met that person before. How did I know that person?" Ken pushed. Dee-Jay did not answer very readily this time, but did eventually say something of value.

"That person was the Jedi Knight who brought you here. That person was responsible for your welfare before you were brought here, was a Knight in the former Order, and wore a brown robe. Anymore, I am not authorized to tell you yet." Dee-Jay refused to talk about it anymore than that, but Ken understood, perfectly.

He understood that none of the droids understood at all.

Suddenly, he really wanted to find Zeebo- a sarcastic mooka was better than a robot who was just answering with automated programming. Now, where was the little bugger?

* * *

"So... that's ALL he said?" Tilus asked. Gornash continued to blink but nodded, if somewhat dazedly. Mostly, he was still confused about how he had gotten back to his bedchamber, especially considering, how he had been more asleep than awake.

"And you woke me UP for this?" Gornash turned, slowly, to see Darth Phegor leaning against the wall, his one good eye glaring at him while his lazy eye was rolled toward the ceiling, combining a glare and the rolling-eye expression perfectly. He was even making a face and scratching the back of his head. Oh, that was how.

"'You are the same as me'... I'm confused- how can you be the same as some guy you've never met, who can't possibly know you, and how could THIS guy know about it?" Tilus mused, sitting down with a thud to think about it. Gornash didn't listen, still staring off into space in a daze- his inner ears hurt too much to do any real thinking.

"Phegor, what do you think?" Gornash swung his legs off his mattress and let his chin drop onto his chest. His beard and mustache rippled as he let out a breath, tickling his nose and making him want to sneeze and scratch his chin. He could hear Darth Phegor groan.

"Don't drag ME into this- it's troublesome enough that I had to get him in here AND you woke me up to hear him ramble about some weirdass dream." He snapped. Gornash pushed himself off his mattress and wobbled over to the sink, hoping that some cold water would revive him. If not, Kadann would have to make his own damn tea for the day.

"But Gornash is our FRIEND! We've gotta stick together, and that means actually caring about stupid shit like this." Gornash was quickly coming to the conclusion that most, if not all of them picked for this job, had been very, very lonely for at least part of their lives. Tilus' reaction to the news, as well as the fact that Darth Phegor did not complain about 'Caring being so bothersome' or something like that seemed to support this.

Or it could have just been that Tilus had never really grown up and Darth Phegor deemed arguing to be 'Too troublesome.'

"Enough, dammit." Gornash moaned, loudly, massaging his eyes. The scars under the corners of his eyes were starting to hurt again, almost as though they would burst open at any moment. While he doubted they actually would, it was still a visual image that hurt to simply think about, which is what he didn't need with this headache of his.

'Take care of him. When the time comes.'

He hadn't told Tilus or Darth Phegor about that. Mostly because he had no clue who the 'Him' was whom that person had been referring to, let alone why he was supposed to play babysitter, or when 'the time' would be. And, of course, there was still the strange idea that he had met the man somewhere before, and his words of them being the same were at least somewhat true.

What really bothered him was that he actually cared about this- why couldn't he just write it off as a weird dream? Why couldn't he just forget about it? And why in God's name did it bother him that he didn't know what he was supposed to do or when or to whom? Why did the idea of not being able to fulfill the duty of 'Taking care of him' bother Gornash so much?

Well... there was an obvious answer to that last one. Gornash clenched his hand into a fist.

"Everyone, back to bed before the supervisor finds out we're up after hours." Gornash finally said, turning sharply and giving Tilus a shove that made him roll out the door. Phegor didn't need a push, but didn't seem to be ready to go anywhere. Tilus managed to get back onto his feet relatively quickly.

"Hey, Copy-Cat Eyes! We're the Prophets now- there AREN'T any supervisors. We can stay up late, we can oversleep, we can even go through a whole work day without doing a damn thing. Those are the perks of the job- we're not prisoners anymore." Tilus was banging on the door as Gornash shut it.

And then, he proceeded to spend the rest of the designated night hours staring at the door.

'You don't know how untrue that is, Tilus.'

* * *

Rootleaf, Mehgan Retaw was coming to understand, was quite possibly the most vile thing in existence itself. She didn't care how much water and salt were added to it, she didn't care if Master Yoda had developed a taste for it, she didn't care that it was the first real food she was having since her week and a half trip here, living off of ration cubes. It was just vile.

"No appetite have you, Padawan Retaw." Master Yoda stated, in that way he had of somehow asking questions without really asking because he knew the answer already, anyway. Mehgan didn't protest at the address- no matter how high they went or how old they grew, Master Yoda probably still saw them all as the younglings he'd trained in younger days. Hell, he probably couldn't tell any of them apart, aside from species and personality- Mehgan knew that, aside from Kendalina and Triclops, all the younglings had looked like the same little shits to her.

"Eh... you know how it is, sometimes... eating bad food for so long, you just don't want to eat at all for a few days to get it all out of your system... that kind of thing." Mehgan lied, smoothly. Master Yoda probably saw through it anyway, but hey- it wouldn't hurt to be polite enough to at least not say to his face that his cooking sucked. It wasn't like she was much better.

"A survival skill, cooking is- one that should have been required during training." Master Yoda said, nodding sagely. Ah, so he knew and agreed with her. That made things much easier.

"To be fair, none of us ever thought we'd have to survive on our own cooking skills for longer than a few days, maybe a few weeks, tops- we used to be fed by the cooking droids, or staff at inns that we stayed at when gone on missions. It wasn't something we ever thought we'd need." She said, but the words tasted very bad when she could smell the rootleaf going cold.

Master Yoda didn't reply until he had ladled out his own bowl and sat down on a rock that was apparently his chair. Mehgan pulled her knees in tighter to her chest and cautiously sipped at the rootleaf, hoping that if she didn't fill her mouth with it, the taste would be less noticeable. This was a mistake, as the bitterness and sourness seemed to crawl over her tongue and the insides of her cheeks from just the littlest sip.

"A request to make, you have." Master Yoda said, finally. Mehgan waited for a few minutes, to be polite, then explained.

"...The other Skywalker..." She began, taking great pains not to refer to the Skywalker brat the way she was accustomed to thinking of him, "...The... younger one."

Master Yoda said nothing, still calmly chewing his rootleaf.

"I would appreciate it if you... neglected to mention... the wealth of information that the Lost City is." Mehgan said, before taking a full spoonful and quickly putting it in her mouth, chewing as quickly as possible to get the food over with.

Master Yoda still said nothing, as though waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Protecting something of Padawan Orewahime's, you are." He finally decreed. Mehgan's jaw paused, giving the nasty taste of rootleaf a chance to absorb into the roof of her mouth, but she refrained from spitting it out.

"...Kendalina... asked me..." She said, slowly, but Master Yoda was giving her one of his looks that said he was going into teacher mode, or at least, he was about to share a story.

"Came to visit me, she did." Master Yoda said, stirring his stew. Mehgan closed her eyes and breathed in, deeply, forcing herself to listen. This had to be important, "Just as you have. The very same thing of me, she asked."

Somehow, that didn't surprise Mehgan, aside from the fact that Kendalina had known about the Lost City of the Jedi when it had, by and large, been considered a myth. Only a few select Jedi had known about it's existence, so for Kendalina to know that Mehgan would hide her apprentice's only child and son (or, to know in advance that she would have a child for Mehgan to hide, at all) in the place was... well...

"And what did you say to her, Master Yoda?" Mehgan asked, knowing that Master Yoda wouldn't continue until he had been asked. Master Yoda sipped at his rootleaf, almost lazily, except not.

"A condition, I had." He said, at last, "If, a reason why I should keep the secret, Padawan Orewahime could give me, keep it, I would."

Mehgan blinked. From experience, she knew that this was Master Yoda's way of telling his students that he expected the same from them, but she also had the nagging feeling there was a further point to this story. There had to be something else that Master Yoda knew, something else to Kendalina's visit that Mehgan was meant to learn from.

"...If you want me to give you a good reason... I can think of several, Master Yoda." She said, slowly, but Master Yoda set down his bowl with a bit of a slam. It was perfectly empty.

"Not good enough." He said, sternly. Mehgan blinked for a moment, before Yoda pointed a small, clawed finger at her, "The same reason Padawan Orewahime gave, you must find."

Mehgan sat, blinking for a moment, before she set down her own bowl. She only hoped that the rootleaf wouldn't go to waste- she was not going to finish it. With the best bow she could manage in the cramped hut, Mehgan excused herself and left for her ship to return to her vigil over Kendalina's son.

She didn't see the disappointment and sadness on Master Yoda's face as he watched her depart.

* * *

Droids did not have real enough emotions to be surprised or confused at the change that overcame the only Human living in the Lost City. After all, Humans had emotions, and they dealt with them in vastly different manners than droids would if they could feel anything. However, a complete change in direction of energies was a situation that all logic defined as alarming.

"His grades have improved dramatically, I see. Should this not be cause for at least relief from you, HC?" DJ-88 noted, scanning over the other droids more recent reports on their charge. HC-100 rather huffily agreed this was true, but only as it changed the subject.

"It's not just that but... well, the reason WHY he has suddenly begun to put so much effort into his studies. All the subjects which he has begun to focus his attention on... DJ-88, you would need to SEE the way he studies them."

DJ-88 remained perfectly calm as it replied.

"I have- It may be true that Ken's fascination with the outside world could, potentially, lead to some risky decisions and behaviors, but the chance of that actually occurring is highly unlikely given the strict watch we have on him." It said. HC-100 said nothing to this, but did eventually bring up a new concern.

"There have also been files missing from the Jedi Library."

DJ-88 didn't need to ask questions- he immediately went to Ken's dome house and found the missing files in question under Ken's pillow.

"History of the Rebellion... History of Tatooine... History of Rogue Squadron... History of the Red Squadron... Biography of Anakin Skywalker... Biography of Padme Naberrie... History of Naboo..." DJ-88 read them off as it leafed through the different data discs and the titles printed neatly on their protective casings. And, of course, the one file that had been checked out and renewed for the last three years.

"HC-100, find Microchip and our errant Jedi youngling- his admiration of Luke Skywalker has officially progressed to an infatuated obsession." HC-100 snapped to attention, like a soldier, then took off to complete it's mission.

If it could have been capable of Human thinking, DJ-88 would have realized that THIS was probably the real reason Ken's grades had gotten so much better.

A/N: At the end of this chapter, Ken is 10 years old. The title song was done by the Killers, and is also my muse for my CMC fic, given the lyrics in the bridge. Quite fitting.

I? Am feeling tired and sick (Not sick and tired, mind you), so I'm going to bed. It's hard to plot these chapters out- next chapter will move events into motion that really get the story GOING... but I'm trying to figure out how to format it. Every eighth chapter of Princess had a lot of flashbacks, so I want to do something special for every tenth chapter here.


	10. Chapter 10

By Sapadu

Chapter 10: The Final Countdown

"_I guess there is no one to blame, We're leaving ground. Will things ever be the same again?"_

_Viro was not particularly surprised to see Triclops in a deep mediation over a dream. The surface of the floor rippled as he stepped in closer, peering over Triclops' shoulder to see what the dream was._

"_That's the Skywalker brat, isn't it?" He asked, recognizing the profile of the young man whom was being led up a set of black, metal stairs towards the hooded, black figure of the Emperor, reclining on his throne. There was no mistaking it- this boy could only BE the son of Anakin Skywalker, and if the physical resemblance wasn't enough, then there were so many other things, from the way he walked and moved to the fact that Triclops and Viro could practically see his aura in the Force._

_There was also no doubt that this scene Triclops was watching was the same dream he'd been having for the last God-knew-how-many years. The three key players were set together, the setting was just as he'd predicted, and everything was in place._

_Triclops was frowning._

"_He knows..." Viro raised an eyebrow at Triclops, before looking back at the images that moved in the reflection of Triclops' dream. It was virtually the same as every other time he'd dreamt it- Viro was completely at a loss as for what could be different enough that he could see something..._

_The Emperor was smiling._

_'I'm looking forward to completing your training. In time, you will call me 'Master'.'_

_He knew._

_The same way he'd known about Triclops and Kendalina- the Emperor knew everything that Triclops had dreamt. Viro didn't know how or why or what it meant, but there was something very innately wrong about the very idea that he had something in common with this man, and it made Viro mad that the Emperor had either foreseen the exact same thing, or that he'd somehow found out what Triclops had been dreaming._

_Very mad._

"_...The HELL?" He demanded, kicking uselessly at the reflection on the floor. All that it did was distort the image by sending ripples across the surface. Triclops continued to watch, impassively, almost sorrowfully._

"_It does not matter. There is nothing we can do, now." Triclops whispered, watching as the Emperor continued to speak, his voice insidious and menacing, even if Triclops wasn't listening to the words. There was just something about the man's voice that felt like poison being dripped into his ear._

"_Hey- look on the bright side! Maybe with the Skywalker brat as his new apprentice, maybe the other bastards the old man let gang-rape you might finally bite it."_

_Triclops saw no humor in this statement. Viro had pulled up a different, particular memory, one of a room full of Sith, all in black cloaks that looked as though someone had snatched them out of the night sky, surrounding him as laughter echoed in the background._

"_That would not make the past go away, though. And then, even if he did, what would become of the others who have been picked as decoys? They would become useless and disposable, once again." Triclops asked. Viro blinked at him, eyebrows raised, before sighing and flopping down next to where Triclops had folded his legs under himself. It had been Triclops' only quirk that they'd ever really butted heads over- Triclops' willingness to show mercy and compassion to complete and total strangers._

_'But now, you must know your father can never be turned back from the Dark Side. So will it be with you.'_

_Triclops' eyes quivered, wanting to close, but he couldn't look away. It almost felt like cowardice, like selfishness for him to try to ignore this._

"_Old man likes to hear himself talk, doesn't he?" Viro asked. Triclops didn't answer. There was a knot in his stomach, that feeling of utter terror and impending horror, destruction, and pain and knowing how it would come and that nothing could be done to stop it._

_He hated it. He hated being so damn useless all the time. He hated how he could only see what was to come, but never, never prevent it. He hated how he couldn't even tell those poor souls who were doomed from the moment they were born what their fate would be._

_'Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen.'_

"_As he has... that's a load of shit, and he KNOWS it!" Viro snapped, "WE were the ones who saw it, you old bastard- don't go taking all the credit!" Viro slammed his fist down into the water-like surface of the dreamscape, again having no effect but to send ripples through the image. Triclops continued to watch, unimpressed._

"_That is... not something you should be worried about..." He said, slowly. Viro didn't listen._

"_How the hell is he finding all this shit out, anyway? I sure as hell didn't say anything- hell, neither of us ever MET the old fart! We've been sleeping this whole time, anyway, so how is he figuring this stuff out?" Viro demanded, looking quite outraged that the Emperor knew so much when he had worked so hard to prevent that._

_Triclops still didn't look up at him, despite the all-out temper tantrum that his other face was throwing._

"_Kendalina did say that the aim of the experiments had been to force us to sleep-talk. It is possible they succeeded at last." He said, evenly. Viro snorted._

"_Not likely. The place we are now is a weapon's factory- even if we were speaking in our sleep, these people sure aren't listening for a dream about the Skywalker brat and his connection or lack thereof with that old bastard." Viro said, turning his back on the scene. It was that comment that made Triclops frown. Now that he thought about it, it DIDN'T make sense. He wasn't sure about what powers the Emperor claimed to have, but Master Yoda had always said that no powers of Force-sight could allow someone to see into the future so clearly._

_That had been why the Jedi had always doubted Triclops._

_So how did the Emperor know, for sure, that Skywalker would be his next apprentice? Hell, the man even knew the responses on the drop of a needle to whatever the Skywalker brat said- every line was exactly like Triclops had seen, and the Emperor KNEW it. He'd even laughed when the boy had threatened to kill him- laughed in the way that said 'Just like I knew it would'._

_What were they missing?_

"_Hey, boy..." Viro had apparently been pondering this as well, because he pushed off from the floor and stood up, "...Remember when you found out about the eye and how we can use it to walk into other people's dreams?" Triclops blinked, but nodded, "You immediately took a walk through other people's minds to talk to Girl, right?" Triclops nodded, again, and Viro was starting to frown, almost suspiciously, "What if..."_

_Triclops continued to blink._

* * *

"Zeebo... what's 'die-ing'?" Ken asked, taking a break from his studies. Well, okay, he'd just been reading the file on Luke Skywalker for the hundred-millionth time, but it counted as study if he'd been taking notes on subjects from Skywalker's life for what to study next. Really, if it had relevance in that person's life, Ken could bear with it when he had to learn about it.

Zeebo stopped picking at his tail feathers- not just paused, but stopped. Ken had obviously said something very, very bad.

"Why're you asking me, not the droids?" Zeebo finally replied, tersely. It was weird to hear it coming from a mooka, but Ken didn't care- he needed to know the answer to his question.

"Because Dee-Jay and the others do not answer me correctly." Ken said, "I will ask them, but Dee-Jay will pull out a dictionary or encyclopedia and give me the definition or explain it through biology or something like that. I still do not understand what it means to die, though."

Zeebo was silent for a long, long time, but it seemed to be in contemplation of Ken's predicament as well as how best to answer.

"Well... think of dying like a droid breaking." Zeebo said, slowly. Ken thought about that- he understood that well enough, since Chip had broken a few times. Heck, once Chip had busted an eye-sensor and Dee-Jay had even let Ken fix that, himself. It had been a feat that had caused Ken to cut himself three different times and get his hands and face dirtier than they had ever been in his life, but Chip's eye had gotten fixed, and pretty well, too.

"Okay..."

"When a droid gets broken, you can fix it- Humans and other creatures are kind of the same. The difference is that for little things like scrapes, dents, bruises, and cuts, those heal on their own. There's some stuff that, if it happens to a living being, something called 'surgery' needs to happen, but then, the body will heal itself." Zeebo continued- Ken didn't interrupt, since he'd long ago learned that if Zeebo was going to actually waste his breath over something, it was worth listening to.

After a moment of consideration, Ken nodded.

"So... Injuries are like breaks in droids, only they fix themselves with enough time and the right treatment?" He said, his brain managing to wrap itself around the concept. Now that he thought about it, those cuts he'd gotten from fixing Chip, or anytime he'd fallen and scraped his knee, or bumped his toe on something, all that Dee-Jay did was clean it and put a sterilized bandage over it to 'prevent infection' and in a few weeks, or sometimes days, Ken would peel off the bandage and the cut would be gone like magic.

"Well, sometimes, a droid gets broken to the point that it's impossible to repair- a chip gets shot, or the wires that control everything are too old, or something- right?" Zeebo pushed. Ken thought about that for a moment. It made sense. He nodded.

"For Humans and other creatures, it's the same. Sometimes, things happen that break them to the point they can't be repaired. The being, whatever it is, doesn't come back again, even if the body gets fixed. It's just not possible for it to work anymore." Zeebo finished. Ken thought about that, too.

It wasn't as easy to think about that- it scared him, somehow.

"...Dying is... breaking... and never being able to be fixed again?" Ken asked, unsure if he had heard that right. Zeebo's beady black eyes remained fixed on him as the mooka nodded.

Ken thought about it for a few minutes more. It made his head and chest hurt.

"Why?" Zeebo asked again, but this time, Ken could tell it was more of a 'Why-are-you-asking-at-all?' Why than a 'Why-don't-you-ask-the-droids?' Why.

"...I had a dream last night..." Ken said, slowly. Zeebo continued to watch him instead of going back to preening, so Ken knew he wanted more than just that, "...Someone with a face that was all wrinkled and pale... He had a hood over his head, so all I saw was his face... and his eyes, sometimes, when the light was just right, but they were all... gross- red and yellow, like he was sick or something..." Zeebo said nothing, "He was pointing his hands at me... and lightning was coming out of his fingertips, all of it was coming at me and then... he stopped for just a moment and said... he said 'Now, young Skywalker, you will die.'"

Zeebo continued to blink, but he suddenly spoke up, which made Ken jump as he had forgotten Zeebo had been there at all.

"You had a dream about someone being killed?" Zeebo asked. Ken blinked, but shook his head.

"I dunno... I woke up right after he said it..."

* * *

It was her fifth round of shots. Arbra was a nice place, sure, but couldn't the place provide some sort of vegetation that made better alcohol? Her fifth round, and Kaoln was still sober. She wasn't even adding water or juice or ANYTHING to dilute the stuff.

These were bad days. Days when the Rogues wouldn't leave her the hell alone, days when she wished she had somewhere to go, days when she even wished Master Orewahime was still around to give her orders and box her ears when she didn't do things right. It wasn't that she LIKED doing things wrong and getting her ears boxed for it... it was just that right now, she really felt dead in the water. There was nothing to give her any indication of whether she was going in the right direction or not. No reprimands if she was doing something wrong, nor rewards if she was doing something right. Everything was simply received, as though she were doing nothing at all. And even then, that would have at least earned scorn from other people, except she couldn't stand being lazy, so she did something.

Kaoln HATED the uncertainty.

Someone sat down next to her. Kaoln cast him the barest of glances. She saw the crest of X-wings flying away from the Alliance seal in a sunburst. A Rogue Squadron member.

"Heyya there, Darkie! You lonely tonight?" And a pervert. Kaoln toyed with her empty shot glasses, lining them up and ignoring him. She signaled to the bartender and got another round. Okay, so he wasn't really a bartender, but now was a rare moment of lull for the Rebs. Another one of the guys- another Rogue, but one by the name of Janson- had pulled together this little makeshift bar, complete with stools, the counter, and stock, out of the scrap metal that would have otherwise just been compacted. It was nice to have a drink when the days sweeps were done and relax a little.

It was not so nice when you wanted to get stone drunk off your ass.

"Listen, sweet cheeks, the least you could do is LISTEN when some guy's offering to let you spend the night at his place..." The Rogue pushed. Kaoln continued to ignore him- Most of the Rogues were nice enough, good drinking buddies, and their commander was a self-proclaimed Jedi to boot. Not a bad group to have. But occasionally, you had some guys like this one who thought with a different head than the one on their shoulders.

These kinds of guys made her very, very grouchy. It was even worse because she REALLY didn't want to deck the guy if she could avoid it, but the way he was pulling the cheesy lines, she wondered if she'd have much choice in a moment.

What would the Furies think of this if they could see their greatest leader's own apprentice being hassled by a testosterone-drunk pilot?

A clawed hand pushed a larger drink towards her. Kaoln looked up to see a female face half burned off sending her a twisted grin. It was the kind of look that said 'Just say the word and he's dead.' Definitely one of the Furies.

Kaoln took the drink and swigged it down. It was more of a malt than a drink, but it was also tart and bitter, like coffee or something had been added, and the sweetness of the foam on top balanced out the burn of the alcohol. Not too bad.

"...So... can I buy you a drink or not?" The Rogue pushed. Kaoln cast him a glare. Really, she wished she had a glass of water to pull the classic maneuver of throwing it in the guy's face, but she didn't. So, she settled for kicked the guy off his stool. In the spot that he was sitting on his stool, to be precise. For a few moments, the whole bar was silent before Kaoln thought she heard something like 'Oh, my spleen' from the ground.

"Gemmer, get over here and leave the Lezzers alone." The other Rogues called. Kaoln smirked to herself, running a hand over her shaved head- She'd done it last night, cut all her hair off and in the remaining thin layer of dark, tightly curled, coarse hair, she'd shaved the insignia of the old Jedi Order. She should have worn something like a scarf or helmet or something over her head before coming here tonight- no wonder guys were flocking to her.

"Ah, the Rogue Squadron- the official commander is the Skywalker brat, but the man who really pulls all the strings is Wes Janson." Said Gwen, who had passed Kaoln the margarita. Kaoln had to smirk- she knew this girl well. They'd been smuggling together for years, knowing each other through Master Orewahime, one as her apprentice and the other as her subordinate in the Furies, they'd even slept together a few times. It was always good to have a partner in crime.

"...Wonder what Master Orewahime would say about all this...?" Kaoln finally said. Gwen stole one of Kaoln's shots and chugged it, but Kaoln didn't care.

"...Is the hatchling okay?" She asked, finally. Kaoln shrugged.

"Master Retaw took care of the little spawn. I don't even know if he's still alive anymore." Kaoln muttered. If she thought about it, she could probably feel him through the Force, but she really didn't care to try. If something had happened to that boy... Somehow, Kaoln didn't think she'd be able to face Master Orewahime, even though the little hatchling had been entrusted to Master Retaw in the end.

"Princess wouldn't blame you, y'know." Gwen had apparently read her mind, "She'd understand. She was like that. And, anyway... I doubt any brood of Master Orewahime would be killed off so easy. It's like... against the genes or something..." Kaoln snorted a little, but eventually pushed away from the bar and stood up, scratching at her knees- they'd had an accident with some lime and powdered sand in the base as they'd built up a barrier to prevent flooding, and the stuff had gotten everywhere. Kaoln still had white dust all over her except for her face, which she had scrubbed nice and shiny clean until it was the right shade of dark brown again.

Gwen followed her- they had a run to do tomorrow, anyway. Smuggling was difficult enough, but weapons were even worse than spice. The worst that could happen to your spice cargo would be that you got there and it was bad, but with weapons, they might not be made right or might even be time bombs in disguise. One could go off, take your whole ship with it, and nobody would even think to look for your remains. It wasn't pleasant.

"Something's bothering you." Gwen, said, simply. Kaoln grimaced, not meeting her bed-partner's eyes.

"I just have this feeling... this foreboding... that something really bad is about to go down..."

Kaoln glanced over at the calender- A single date was circled in bright red. Written on it was 'Endor Day'.

The countdown had begun.

* * *

The Massai Temples were a sight to behold, Mehgan had to admit that. What she didn't like doing was standing there, lingering. There was something in her bones that just tingled, as though warning her that something bad was about to happen. She didn't want to be around the ancient pyramids when it DID, if only so that the pyramids wouldn't be destroyed.

There was a loud smash and the sound of stones falling and crumbling under the weight of something, almost as though a meteor had landed on the Temples. Mehgan jumped and flipped, completely out of the way of the falling rubble before she spun around to face what it was.

It was a single person pod- almost like an escape pod, except different. And then, it opened up and a round, compact man with spectacles and a bristly beard waddled out of it. For a moment, Mehgan watched, cautiously, from behind a rock, wondering who or what he was.

Then, the man opened his mouth. Out of it came six other men, some smaller than him, some taller, some larger, and all of them in long robes that glittered like the night sky. One of them, a man easily over 200 centimeters, glared around for a moment before he gestured, violently, at the rock Mehgan had been crouched behind. It exploded.

"It's been a pain trying to find you- Master Retaw." His voice was mocking and disdainful as he spoke her name, but Mehgan stayed on her guard, shifting into an attack stance, just in case.

"I wasn't aware I knew anyone with your face well enough to give out my name." She replied, sternly. All of them looked human, or at least humanoid- the shortest one, just barely up to her waist, had a stubby, rolled-in nose that was unmistakably Bimm. There was a short one with a face that seemed overly red and a wiry frame, an average, firmly built man whose face was currently fixated in a yawn and a single lazy eye, a taller one, almost on eye-to-eye level with her with what looked like incredibly long lower eyelashes, but were really just scars, a handsome faced man just slightly shorter than the one with the scars, and the incredibly tall one that seemed to loom over them all.

The only thing they had in common were their beards and hair color, even to the point that Mehgan could see how some of the men had even dyed their own hair to the pitch black it was. Some had bristly beards, some had smooth beards, some had matted beards, and the handsome man had even done his in an elegant braid down his front.

"You'd be amazed at how quickly information travels when you go to the right sources." The tall one said, smugly. Mehgan glared, wondering if she should reprimand him, but the man continued talking, "We've been looking for you- now, you will give us information we have been in need of."

Mehgan considered this a moment, before asking, politely,

"What would some young punks like you want with an old hag like me?" Her words seemed to have done the trick, as all the men outright gaped at her, "I may not look it, but I'm easily twice everyone's age here. Hell, I might even be three or FOUR times some of you little rascals in years." The four was stretching it, but some of their faces were so young that they could have easily been a fifth her age. The fact that she was well into her hundreds by now also didn't hurt.

"Punks? Little rascals?" Asked the red-faced one, though he was quickly turning purple and the words came out as a demand, as though he were thinking 'She better NOT have just said that.'

"Ouch." Agreed the fat one.

"Sticks and stones, love." Put in the one with the braids. Mehgan rolled her eyes. This was an odd crew, but they undoubtedly knew what they were doing. They came to her for information, they'd said, which meant they knew she had some information to conceal. And considering that Mehgan had been living as a hermit for the past ten years, for anyone to find out would take superior information gathering skills.

"Tell me who you are, first. Then, I'll decide if I want to talk to you." Mehgan said, evenly. The tall man with the big nose snorted, derisively. From what she could tell, he was probably thinking along the lines of 'As though you have a choice in the matter.' He opened his mouth, probably about to say just that. Whatever- she could deal with egotists.

The short, bimm-faced one stopped his taller teammate by holding a hand out, as though to block him.

"Your demand is reasonable, but first, we shall tell you what we know." He said, but with a smug air in his voice. He thought he would be impressing her, with whatever he was about to say, or perhaps he thought he would be intimidating her, or perhaps it was some other display that was meant to put her in her place, "You go by the name Mehgan Retaw. You were born on the marshes of a minor moon in the Outer Rim to a still undocumented and unnamed species comprised entirely of asexually reproducing females who spend their childhoods as tadpoles before they grow into a more humanoid shape, which can take from ten to twenty years. Because of this incredibly slow aging process, a female could take fifty years before she begins to reach an adolescent human body and sixty years before she reaches the adult stage. Mehgan Retaw, whom you are, took precisely seventy-three years before she reached her full maturity, being a particularly late bloomer, especially as a Jedi. You spent fifty years as a youngling, even with the age delay taken into account, before being assigned to the Exploration Corps of the Jedi Order. The Jedi Master who found you, Master Mace Windu, took custody of you when you were brought to the Temple, and would later become your Master at the request of a former apprentice, Depa Billaba."

Mehgan ground her teeth- they sure did their jobs right, she had to grant them that. For an unnamed and undocumented species, they sure had the details on her biology. It was enough to make her wonder if they knew exactly why Depa had requested Master Windu take her on as an apprentice- it had been one thing for Master Windu to accept out of sympathy and for the secret to be just between the three of them, but if someone else had KNOWN...

"Under his tutelage, you rose to the rank of a Knight in just one year. After that year, you were sent on a mission to gather children to become Jedi, which took you to the Corellian system, the twin worlds of Tralus and Talus, upon one of which, you encountered the Ancient and Most Noble House of Zuka. Within that house, you found the perfect candidate to become a Jedi in the form of the newest born daughter to the head of the family, Lord Ibal Zuka, and the woman Mina Orewahime Zuka, and the younger sister of the Young Lord, Dalhouise Zuka. She was a blind baby, and would have been one of a set of triplets, but her brothers died during birth, and her official name was 'Girl'. However, as the years went on and she learned to talk, she gave herself a name as 'Kendalina Orewahime'. It was under this name that, upon her fifth birthday, you took the risk of kidnapping her and, after a year of evasive flying and planet hopping, returned to the Jedi Temple."

Mehgan felt her blood running cold- she had almost forgotten that little detail about Kendalina's escape from that horrible house. Technically, she HAD kidnapped the little girl- she remembered the sentry ships chasing her and Kendalina all the way past the border. It had been a fight worthy of some of the Clone Wars, how she had shot them down, one by one, but at the same time, she had felt such great remorse for being forced to kill the police who were just doing their jobs. She'd shat bricks that whole year, jumping from planet to planet and just barely avoiding detectives from the Correllian system before she'd made it back to the diplomatic immunity of the Jedi Temple. And the whole time, Kendalina hadn't even been aware of it, too young and too blind and too scared to understand what was going on.

"After your return to the Jedi Temple, you continued to act as a mentor and the legal guardian of this girl, your guardianship later expanding to a young, three-eyed, nameless boy that she found hidden in the cargo bay of an incoming ship. This boy was called 'Triclops' by everyone, for nobody could find any documentation or identification of this boy. And the two of them grew up. Right before your eyes."

Mehgan felt her hands shaking. All those memories were coming back, just like she was reliving them again. She could feel the two of them in her arms, Kendalina kicking and flailing while Triclops clung to her shirt and winced as Kendalina's limbs occasionally hit him or yanked his hair. She could smell the particular odor of a baby just learning how to control her bladder and dress herself. She could hear the footsteps of a troublemaker running from the scene of the crime where she had just made a mess in the Jedi Dining Hall and the protests of her partner in crime insisting that they should go back and clean up.

Mehgan remembered the day that Kendalina first started to talk back to her, instead of obediently following orders. It had been just two months before they'd reached Coruscant. Mehgan had told her to eat her vegetables. Kendalina's reply was 'Why should I eat something that tastes THIS gross?' In the end, Kendalina hadn't eaten them, but did take twice as many servings of fruit. Mehgan had let it go.

She remembered the day that Triclops had first smiled. Mehgan had been arguing with Kendalina about bedtimes. Kendalina said that it was still light out and they should still be able to do things while it was light out. Mehgan had insisted that bedtimes were standard, no matter if it was light or dark. Finally, after a long, heated argument wherein Kendalina displayed an inborn Correllian talent for swearing, Triclops suggested they compromise by adjusting bedtimes to when it got dark but by setting earlier wake-up times with earlier bedtimes. Both Mehgan and Kendalina had been so floored by the logic that Triclops had burst into laughter at the looks on their faces.

Mehgan kept her face stoic.

"Obviously, you were very important to them- there came a time that the Jedi Council called for your expulsion from the Order and excommunication from the Temple. The official reason was because you had attacked an unarmed civilian, but of course the REAL reason was because you grew too attached- attracted, I should say- to your apprentice. Attachment was one thing, but to another female and a child, no less... Even if, legally, you had done nothing wrong, the mere fact that you cared that deeply was an unpardonable offense. Despite this, these two children, instead of turning on you or at least remaining at the Temple but simply begrudging the Council, wasted no time in setting out after you to bring you back. And not only that, but they spared no expense to do it- they rented their own apartment, took jobs, shouldered responsibilities that most adults would shirk if they could, and even willingly broke laws, finally finding you and promptly taking you back to the Temple and even pushing for your readmittance into the Order. And, of course, your first action was to submit your padawan for the Trials, and she became the youngest ever Jedi Knight at the age of thirteen."

Mehgan glared.

"Why are you saying this?" She asked, voice feeling weak in her throat. The bimm-faced man, whom had been doing all this narration with perfect stoicism, suddenly smiled.

"That beloved apprentice of yours had a child. A son. With the same boy that she found in the cargo bay that fateful day. It was because you cared for her so much that you accepted the duty of protecting that boy, hiding him away, and keeping his very existence a secret."

Mehgan continued to scowl, but this man was speaking in a smirking, haughty tone, as though he had just achieved a great feat by coming to his declaration.

"You ask who we are? We..." He paused for a grand effect, "Are the clients of Young Lord Zuka. We have given him his mission- to find this boy and bring him to us."

There was a silence. At long last, Mehgan started to laugh. To her own ears, it sounded a little less than sane.

"Oh, is that all?" She asked, smiling thinly, "You could have just said so in the beginning, you know..."

The bimm-faced man chuckled, just a little. Mehgan chuckled back, lowering her chin onto her collarbone.

They wanted Kendal. They wanted Kendalina's son. They were going to take him away, away from the Lost City, away to wherever they lived, away to a new life, new home, new family. It seemed so obvious, so utterly stupid, that Mehgan felt like she should have known right from the start. Why ELSE would they come hunting down an old Jedi hag like her, except to learn the secrets that she'd been guarding, to find a younger, more capable, more easily influenced...

Mehgan's smile was mutated as she began to frown and opened her eyes to scowl at the seven Sith- that's all they COULD be- gathered before her. Then she smashed her fist against the Temple.

It should be noted that, when the pod had landed, only a small corner of the Massai Temple had been crushed under it, leaving a small crater, but the Temple itself still intact. The reason this should be noted is because Mehgan's fist made such large cracks in the Temple stone that the entire north face of the Temple crumbled, letting light into every room that the northern walls had covered.

It was enough that all seven of the Sith men jumped backwards and if Mehgan had been watching their faces, she would have seen some definite fear in their eyes.

"I'll KILL you!" She hissed. The Sith actually did start to look a little panicked, except for the Bimm one, who shouted towards the others to take defensive action. Mehgan didn't wait- her hand went down to saber ready position and her lightsaber came out of her sleeve, ready to be ignited at a moment's notice.

"Man, I KNEW this would be troublesome..." Groaned the lazy-eyed one. She didn't care- her lightsaber was on with a snap-hiss.

"I thought the Jedi were above utter slaughter like this, Master Retaw." Sneered the Bimm. Mehgan scowled, but brandished her blade.

"You have until the count of three. Then, I start using this." She declared. Until three to do what, she didn't mention, because she really didn't care. She didn't care if they ran away, or committed ritual suicide, or whatever, but just as long as they were GONE, she would be happy, "One!"

They all backed away, but not nearly far enough for Mehgan's liking. And that Bimm one was still standing perfectly still, looking for all the world like he had nothing to lose.

"The news reached us about how that apprentice of yours was killed- executed, officially, but I'm sure you would call it murder. And her own brother was the executioner, too. Even for the Empire, that DOES seem a little harsh, doesn't it?"

"Two!"

"After all that, you'd still show such affection for her child- She must have been terribly important to you. Why, even though she's dead, you still protect this child of hers, despite the fact that you resent his very existence. She must have been VERY important to you..."

"Three!"

Mehgan was very, very ready to kill these men- she didn't care if it WAS against the Jedi Code. Fuck the Code. Fuck the Jedi Order. And most importantly, fuck these guys. They were going to die. Period.

"We can resurrect that student of yours. With the technique the Emperor has developed."

Mehgan stopped.

The Bimm smiled at her.

"Well? You counted to three. Yet, we're all still alive. Does this mean we have your interest?" He asked. Mehgan didn't answer- she didn't hear him. She wasn't even aware of where she was anymore. It was as though the whole world had tilted on it's side and faded out.

_Master Retaw, what's this? It's so warm... That's sunlight, Kendalina. ...I LIKE sunlight..._

The little blind girl who reached out and gripped her finger when she found her, alone, in her cradle. The same little girl who so quickly grew into a woman that leveled a building and even survived an encounter with Darth Vader. The girl who had gone out of her way to spoil the younglings when the Masters weren't looking with 'Inappropriate' stories and little toys. The young woman who single-handedly saved the life of a dying patient when the other medics refused to continue operating on 'His kind of trash'. The Medical Jedi woman who had discovered three different medicines from a single fungi while aiding the Rebellion before her capture. She was dead now but...

_Kendalina has taught me a new word, but what does it mean? What's the word? ...I think it is 'Asshead'... But I am not sure..._

Kendalina had died... and, somehow or another, taken Triclops with her. She had been the single light and beacon in his life, his role-model, his sister, his companion, his mother, his teacher, his god. Triclops had smiled the brightest when Kendalina was around and had been saddest when she was gone. Everything about Triclops had been based off of the Kendalina who'd, essentially, raised him. Now, that Triclops was gone. Mehgan didn't know if he had been literally killed or not, but one thing was for sure- even if he was alive, he wasn't living, and she would never see either of their smiles or hear either of them laugh ever again.

But... Kendalina could be... resurrected?

"...That boy... If I told you where I hid that boy..." Mehgan said, slowly, "...What would you do with him?" Her voice felt like a twig that could be snapped at any moment and the look she was getting from these men was only making it worse.

After a long moment, a different man answered- the one with the braided beard.

"He wouldn't be harmed- kids are too sweet at his age, anyway." Under normal circumstances, Mehgan would have questioned that. She would have been suspicious and angry and particular. She would have noticed the slight, subtle tone in the man's voice that reminded her of someone else. These were not normal circumstances- all she heard were the words.

"I'm asking you..." Her voice sounded strained as she spoke- every word seemed to stretch, thin and taut and filmy, like hot rubber that was being pulled into a thin, thin screen but was beginning to tear from being stretched too much, "...What you would do with him."

There was a beat, and then the tall man answered.

"The Emperor has need of that boy." He said, "The same technique which he can use to bring people back to life, for some reason, isn't working for himself. But that boy might." It wasn't the words, but the offhanded casualness they were spoken with, the factual tone as though discussing how best to repair a broken computer, that seemed to pump some semblance of anger back into Mehgan.

"You would use an innocent boy as a container for a Sith..." She muttered, feeling her blood temperature rise. The man who was taller than her sneered, his lip audibly curling under his beard and hood.

"It's only appropriate for that boy to show some respect for his elders." He replied, coldly. Mehgan frowned, allowing her nose to crinkle.

"Elders?" She could see the green eyes of the man with scars under them light up, almost gleefully.

"So, you never found out, then?" For some strange reason, the man spoke very blandly, almost completely void of emotion. Only that gleaming delight in his eyes gave the barest illusion of feeling, "Did that apprentice never share what she learned about the genetic parentage of her mate, the father of that boy?"

Mehgan could feel her pupils dilating as she frowned.

"The father of that boy is none other than the biological offspring of the Emperor, himself."

Oh.

There was a sudden stop of all activity in Mehgan's brain, followed by a surge of memories and pieces that weren't supposed to exist fitting together. No birth records. No name. The slave trade. It made sense. But... Mehgan could still recall the mute little boy who had cowered behind Kendalina before the Council, who had never so much as stepped on a bug underfoot, who had treasured holophotos of baby animals and had always willingly played with the younglings, no matter how much they screamed at him or pulled his hair or poked him in any of his three eyes.

Sweet, innocent, little Triclops... had been directly related to... the Sith Lord?

"Of course, you needn't answer now. Preparations would need to be made, in any case. But do think it over. And we will be... popping back... from time to time to check up on you and be sure you're alright..."

Mehgan didn't hear them. She didn't notice as they all returned to their ship and disappeared into the night sky again. Everything in her brain felt numb as she stood amongst the rubble that had been part of the Massai Temple just a few minutes ago.

She couldn't stop shaking.

* * *

The funny thing about time is how differently it can pass- for some people a whole year will seem like nothing, while for others, it never seems to end. In physics, there is a theory somewhat similar to this- not the theory of relativity, but it essentially goes like this- if a man with a son were to depart from the planet Earth in a spaceship and travel the galaxy for a number of years, when the man returned, his son would be older than him. This is because of a quirk in time itself, for some complicated reason that very few people besides expert scientists would understand. Hell, I don't understand it.

The third year after the Battle of Yavin seemed to take forever to change to the fourth. The man known to anyone who ever had known of his existence by the name of 'Triclops' seemed to remain the same as ever, ageless in his sleep. He only continued to dream, his vision of the fall of the young Skywalker growing clearer and clearer everyday. He knew it by heart now, so well that he could tell you exactly how many breaths the father and son would take as they dueled.

Meanwhile, the boy christened as 'Kendall' grew another year. He cleaned out the Jedi Library on all information about this man called 'Palpatine', especially after his nightmare about being electrocuted in the place of Skywalker. He learned how to repair a droid with a glitch in it's speech and how to levitate small objects, completely under his control. He grew another eight centimeters.

The Emperor watched everything from his dark throne, waiting in the shadows for the day to come when the son of Skywalker would bow before him. All of his visions were sent to the seven propaganda Prophets, to make into prophecies and keep the public in order. This would be the final, crippling blow to the Rebellion and all those foolish enough to dare defy him. After the turning of Skywalker and the destruction of the Alliance, those remaining would not even have the pleasure of his mercy. They would be crushed, like the insects they were.

The Prophets of the Dark Side- the real ones, that is- pondered over the visions they had seen. All of them had been quite shocked when the boy they had attacked so long ago appeared to them as a grown man and quite freely given them this vision of triumph for the Dark Side. But now, Kadann and Jedgar were growing anxious- all was not well, and those false Prophets the Emperor had created were more than disturbing to all of them.

The abandoned prisoner, number 06167514, now known as Prophet Gornash or Darth Levitan, continued with his days in the same mind-numbing fashion. He kept to himself, mostly, but a few particularly outstanding days did come, including an incident involving the hem of 'Kadann's robe, some glue, and some extra hot pepper powder. Tilus claimed credit when they went under interrogation. Darth Phegor finally gave his false name as 'Barnaby', Darth Noma managed to set fire to three different guards simply by swearing at them, and Gornash met Darth Asmod. The first two had been agreeable, almost enjoyable days, but the last experience was the one thing that Gornash had no desire to repeat- Tilus had shivered and moaned and gnawed at his knuckles, squeaking every time someone so much as breathed loudly around him for the rest of the day. Gornash, Tilus, and Barnaby all came to the unanimous conclusion that Darth Asmod was a MOST unsavory character.

Mehgan Retaw sat in her cave, keeping watch over the Lost City from a distance, all the while contemplating the choice set before her and pondering Master Yoda's question. More questions came, plaguing her, as the offer set down by those so-called 'Prophets'. What to do? What would Triclops want? What would KENDALINA want? Was it worth it? To give up their child just for a chance for the two of them to come back to her... Would Kendalina do it for her? For Triclops? Or would she tell the Prophets to kiss her ass and then proceed to find her own way to get the best of both worlds?

Kaoln smuggled her weapons, drank her booze, and had the occasional tryst in bed with Gwen. When she wasn't eating, sleeping, or working, she kept her eye on the Skywalker brat, wondering how in the Hell he expected to be a Jedi when there was nobody around to train him. And, really, even if there WERE... who would?

Dalhouise Zuka played with the twins and helped his wife look after the triplets who had just been born, all the while searching for his nephew under the orders of the anonymous sponsor. It was just a guise anyway- if he didn't find that boy, there would be consequences, no matter what.

For all of them, time dragged that one, fateful year. For some, it seemed best that way- they would only have a year to live anyway, so make it last until the day that Vader was toppled by his own son and sent the Galaxy into chaos. For others, they simply wished the year would end, and put them out of their misery instead of prolonging the suffering.

It was thus quite a shock when Endor Day came and the moment when Luke Skywalker, historically, threw down his saber and refused the Emperor, came. It was but a single moment, but the wonderful results it brought suddenly made the whole, hellish year disappear in a flash. The reason why it went so quickly was because it had been both unexpected and an incredible relief, and all Humans know that relief is an emotion that is singularly hard to savor.

A/N: Finally, this chapter is DONE! Feel free to keep guessing as to what the Prophets are supposed to be.

The title song is by Europe.


	11. Part II: Chapter 1

PRINCE

By Sapadu

A/N: Just so everyone knows- this is a year after the death of Palpatine. A lot of stuff happened in other books which I REALLY don't want to repeat (and risk copyright infringement over) so, suffice to say, go look them up for yourselves. They'll be mentioned so nobody gets TOO lost, but any real details, you'll have to read the books.

Part II

Chapter 1: Run Away

"_Never say goodbye, I wanna know the truth instead of wondering why."_

"So, not only has his High-and-All-Powerfulness kicked over..."

"But everyone left who could have possibly led us until we found a new ruler has either defected or been killed off..."

"Almost all the major governors have turned into warlords trying to take over the throne..."

"The few leaders with any intelligence are stuck in a catfight with each other over 'I'm more loyal than you are', 'No I am'..."

"And the Rebel Alliance, now renamed the 'Alliance of Free Planets', is STILL on the loose and, for the most part, beating all of our asses."

Gornash looked between Tilus and Barnaby, not interrupting their individual rants, before he was quite certain they were done.

"So... good reason for a meeting?" He asked, dryly. Tilus snorted.

"I think so." He concluded. Barnaby just yawned, loudly, and scratched the back of his head under his hood.

"They woke us UP for this..." He grumbled. Gornash chose not to reply as the three of them entered into the meeting room. All the others except Darth Asmod had already gathered- Kadann and Jedgar were over in the corner, talking in a manner that almost seemed like gossiping except they just didn't DO that, while Darth Noma was seated at the table, fuming at being left out. His face didn't change as he glanced up and saw the three of them enter.

"About damn time you lousy fuckers showed up." He snarled. Gornash took a seat, calmly.

"We missed you too." The false-Darth Levitan said. It was all he could say, and in any case, Gornash knew he was the only one who COULD speak to Darth Noma at all and not be set ablaze. Tilus somehow or another hauled himself up into the chair next to Gornash while Barnaby didn't even bother with the chairs and sprawled out on the floor, hands folded behind his head and his hood pulled over his eyes.

"Get off the floor, you lazy ass!" Noma snapped at him, but Barnaby mostly ignored him, and sure enough, Gornash heard something like a snore coming from beneath the hood.

"He's only doing his job." Gornash said, simply, "So, do you have any idea what the Devil's Duo over there are chattering about?" Darth Noma huffed and looked away, but did answer the question.

"They were talking about the She-Bitch going on a rampage, how we're losing the fucking war, that everyone in the Empire who ever supported us are now hauling ass, and something about the end of the world but nothing THAT fucking important." He said, rambling it off as though his tongue were made of molten alloy.

"You swear too easily." Tilus scolded. He never did get over the 'Fatso' remark. Darth Noma's reply was just as sharp and spilled out just as easily.

"Ask me if I give a shit." He snapped.

"Guys... shut up... I'm tryin' to sleep... here..." Barnaby drawled from the floor.

Darth Asmod opened the door at that precise moment, just as Kadann and Jedgar finished their scheming over in the corner. Gornash and Tilus looked firmly towards them- they were much more preferable to looking in Asmod's direction.

"Good day to you all, fellow prophets." Kadann began, as Gornash nudged Barnaby with his toe, prompting him to drag himself off the floor and plop into a chair.

"Doesn't 'Good day' normally mean we're excused?" He wasted no time in asking. Jedgar threw a disgusted look his way, but didn't get a chance to speak as Tilus butted in,

"I'm only here because you said there'd be free food. So where is it- there ISN'T any free food, is there?" He demanded. Jedgar opened his mouth, as though to try and shout the others down, but Noma obviously had a complaint of his own.

"Don't lump me in with the rest of you ass-kissers. I ain't a 'fellow prophet' or nothin'." Darth Noma put in, going quite purple in the face. Jedgar once again opened his mouth, but Darth Asmod also had two cents to put in.

"So, I take it there are no strippers then, are there?" He demanded. Both Kadann and Jedgar looked truly impressed that such an exaggeration had made its way to Asmod's ears when there were only seven of them in the organization. Kadann mostly sat back and let Jedgar attempt to make himself heard, while the other, less-cooperative members of their operation continued to give him a hard time

Gornash rolled his eyes to the ceiling, offering a prayer to God for patience, sanity, and, if it wasn't too much trouble, maybe some bleed-proof eardrums.

"If you guys all stop arguing with them, we'll be out of here that much sooner." Gornash finally put in. The logic seemed to have a calming effect on the others, even if it was by simply shocking them all into silence.

Kadann cleared his throat and began the meeting.

"As I'm sure all of you are aware of, the Empire is in a state of chaos, right now. All our forces are scattered, and the military and civilian support needed to maintain order don't have a single leader to fall behind. In this current climate, the conditions are perfect for a complete takeover by even a single individual if they played their cards correctly."

Almost immediately, four hands went up.

"I'm out." Chorused Tilus, Barnaby, Noma, and Gornash. Kadann glared at them.

"This isn't an optional decision- we're all in this together." He snapped, looking thoroughly disgusted, "At this precise moment in time, we could have the entire galaxy at our fingertips- someone is going to take the helm sooner or later, and even on the off chance that it ISN'T someone from the Empire Remnants, WE would still be in very real danger of being imprisoned again. Does anyone here WANT to go back to those spice mines?" Kadann stood at this point- he was taller sitting in the chair, but it seemed to do something to the atmosphere of the room.

Gornash let his eyes fall to the floor. Tilus' mouth snapped shut. Barnaby's whole body went rigid. Darth Noma folded his arms, which did nothing to disguise his hands clenching around his elbows.

The curling on Kadann's skinny lips was enough to tell them he had won.

"Now that we are all in agreement, there are preparations to be made." Kadann said, slowly. He let the words sink in, before he completed his thought, "...For the resurrection of our Lord, the Emperor."

It should be noted that Gornash, being codenamed 'Darth Levitan', was the least irritable, impatient, and acerbic of all seven of them. He usually kept his head, rarely swore, and could normally be seen as the calmest. This should be noted because otherwise, no one will be quite as surprised as they should be when they read this next sentence.

It was Gornash who was out of his chair and on his feet before any of the other 'dissenters'.

"YOU WANT US TO REVIVE THE VERY MAN WHO SENT US TO THOSE PRISONS IN THE FIRST PLACE?" Shouting would have been a bit of an understatement- Gornash could feel his vocal chords throbbing and rumbling in his throat and Tilus, Barnaby and even Darth Noma actually jumped and scooted away. Gornash heard his voice come echoing back to him- it sounded rather unlike himself. Kadann even seemed temporarily spooked into shock, but recovered quickly.

"He will be returning no matter what we do- did you REALLY think I was bluffing to that Jedi bitch about reviving her apprentice or whatever the hell she wanted? The Emperor had his method for bringing himself back to life, the means, the method, and everything in place. Now, once he has returned, who do you think he will reward more- the higher ranking officers who immediately tried to make a grab for his power and abandoned him, or the lowly prisoners-made-decoys who rushed to assist him in his return?"

Gornash felt his knuckles and fingertips going cold as he clenched his hands into tighter and tighter fists. Barnaby spoke up this time- whether it was because he didn't want Gornash to burst a blood vessel or because he wanted to be the one to poke a hole in Kadann's logic, Gornash wasn't sure.

"You DO realize that he'll KNOW that's how we were thinking, yes? That guy was different from other people- he KNEW what we were thinking the moment we thought about something. We'll all get our asses kicked if we try and kiss his boots like that." The point was somewhat sloppily put, but much needed. Kadann did not seem perturbed in the least.

"Yes, that is true." He agreed, but his smile had turned sinister.

"And even if he doesn't care about us being all chummy just to get on his good side, he'd still kill us off anyway, just because he was an ass like that. Don't deny it, either- you know he would." Tilus put in.

Both Kadann and Jedgar were sneering. Gornash got the feeling that these were the exact points that they had been 'discussing' over in the corner.

"If he were allowed to run loose as he had been before, yes..." Jedgar agreed, but there was a definite edge in his words, nastier and sharper and somehow more terrible than Kadann's, "But if WE were to have control over the particular body he came back to life inside of... that would be a different story. He would be OUR puppet- WE would be the ones holding the reins of the galaxy. So, if we could somehow find a body that the Emperor's spirit would want for his return and gain control of it before his rebirth..."

Darth Asmod seemed to understand before any of them.

"So THAT'S what you want that boy for." He noted, a smirk of his own making its way to his lips.

Kadann sneered right back.

"The Emperor never perfected his technique using his clones- for some reason, they would age and die off too quickly. Because of that, he started looking for a real body- one belonging to someone or something that wasn't a clone, born naturally, with enough Force sense that he could be capable of using the same powers as the Emperor, AND a direct blood relative... His Excellency will live for much longer- possibly even have a natural life without his body aging and decaying the way it did before." He said, almost like he was explaining to a small child.

Gornash couldn't help but wonder what would happen to this poor little bastard that he was planning to use.

"This is what you were planning, then?" This was a voice that couldn't have possibly belonged to any of them- for one thing, it was a woman's voice. For another, it came from outside the room, at the same time, echoing from all sides. On cue, panels of the walls came out and stormtroopers came in, like roaches swarming a cupboard of food, and directed by none other than Madame Director Isard.

For a moment, none of them even dared breathe. Then, Barnaby came with a single statement.

"I think we may be in trouble."

* * *

Ken idly scrolled down the screen of the datapad he had in his hands. It was his four-thousandth, three-hundredth, fifty-second time reading this file. He had every word memorized. He could tell you when a new paragraph was started. He could tell you how every word was spelled and the punctuation used in every sentence. In all honestly, there was no point in him reading this over and over and over again- Ken was just going back to look at the pictures.

Luke Skywalker's face seemed... very odd- Ken couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about it that just didn't seem to fit. The lines that made his shape were... not straight didn't seem to quite describe it, but there was something about how they didn't seem to be the same shape every single time. Ken scrolled up and down between the pictures of the only known living Jedi Knight, frowning at the differences, yet how he could tell that it was definitely the same person.

Oh, Ken knew that part of it was aging- Dee-Jay had explained that when, after his recovery from that weird Force-Empathy sickness, Ken had looked into the mirror and seen a very different face. And there was also something about changes that happened if your face was injured- Zeebo had covered that one- called scarring. And, given that there was supposedly a war on Topworld, injuries and scars were only natural.

No, there was something else... something... softer, for lack of a better word, about the lines that made up Luke Skywalker's face. They seemed to morph with the changing of his expression, and then wouldn't go back to their old shape, but always just the littlest bit off.

Whatever it was, Ken just kept staring. Part of it was because you really couldn't memorize a picture the way you could words. But Ken was mostly spacing out over the picture, imagining what it would be like... to meet this person. What did he sound like? Act like? What colors did he like? What hobbies? What what what what? In his daydreams, Ken mostly imagined hearing a voice that sounded... well, like his own. Mostly because any other voices he could possibly imagine up either belonged to droids, or to a particularly acerbic mooka.

"...He's not THAT good-looking, y'know." Said a voice next to Ken's ear.

Speaking of which...

"That is YOUR opinion." Ken said, evenly. He felt Zeebo's paws on the line of his hair part, two little pads of warmth crawling towards his bangs until he felt the mooka's untrimmed nails claw at his forehead. Then, Ken's head unexpectedly tilted forward with the weight of a small mammal suddenly climbing on top of it.

"Ow."

"Sorry." Zeebo didn't sound sorry in the least. Ken ignored him and kept daydreaming, but Zeebo started to speak again, "I know what you're thinking. Don't do it."

"Do what?" Ken asked, still staring at the datapad. Zeebo made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat before Ken felt the lump of heat lift off his head and disappear. What he didn't notice was the sound of the door to his dome house opening and then sliding shut again.

* * *

"Heyya, Luke! How's our favorite Commander-turned-Jedi doing this morning?" The voice of Hobbie bounced across the hangar and off of the various X-Wings awaiting their repairs. During the quiet hours, if the Rogues saw Luke in their hangar, it usually meant he was in an unusually good mood, or an unusually bad mood.

There was a pause for everyone who could do so to examine Luke before he responded- Unshaven, bags under his eyes, securely wrapped in bandages everywhere that his clothes didn't cover, and still limping, Luke dragged himself over to Hobbie's station and very slowly sat down.

"Take a wild guess." Were the first words out of the former Rogue Squadron Commander. Everyone relaxed.

"Still aching from the bruisin', huh, Lukie-boy?" Wes poked his head out from the cockpit he'd been hiding in for the last half-hour. Luke didn't acknowledge him- whether it was because he didn't hear Wes or because he was still sore about the very spicy 'change from medcenter food' that Major Janson had sent him a few days ago, nobody was sure. Instead, Luke just wobbled over to sit down next to Wedge and practically fell over as his legs almost gave out. Wedge caught him just in time.

"You sure you up to walking around? You were just caught in a bomb a few days ago..." He asked as Luke winced with the movement of his arm, but the Jedi waved it away.

"I'm fine. Just in a bit of pain is all." Luke spoke slowly, as though it hurt for his chest to move the necessary amount for him to breathe. After a few moments, Wes spoke up again.

"I think someone's just crabby 'cuz he didn't get laid." Wedge, being seated the closest to Luke at the moment, was the only one to see Luke's eye twitch at Wes' comment.

"You're about to get something ELSE in a second..." He heard Luke mutter between locked clenched teeth.

Hobbie didn't help matters.

"Which one- the Bakuran negotiator or the Zeltron chick?" He called, somehow multi-tasking as he repaired his barrel tubes, "Because I don't think he'd be crabby over THOSE two..."

Wedge saw a vein begin to throb in Luke's temple and wisely kept his mouth shut, noisily rattling his tools as though it would drown out the sound of Hobbie and Wes shouting about Luke's sex life across the hangar bay.

"Nah- that OTHER gal... Margy or Marcie or something like that." Wes pushed. Hobbie actually stopped his work to consider the matter before his eyes lit up like a powering up ion-cannon.

"You mean MARY."

Somehow, in spite of the magical deafening noise that Wedge's tools made, Luke still managed to hear the two talking.

"Wedge..." Luke said, slowly, "You're the new Rogue Squadron Commander... would you court-marshal them for me?"

Wedge let out a much-put-upon sigh.

"I'd like to..." He said, as though trying to explain to a younger brother that he couldn't have any candy because Mommy and Daddy said so, "But I can't. We need pilots." Luke put his hands over his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

"Damn."

* * *

Passkeys were a pain- they really were. Still, making one wasn't quite as hard as Ken had thought. He had written the code that would open the elevator shaft doors and take him to Topworld. Then, it was all a matter of making a key and programming the code into it. Ken knew how to do that- he'd seen a file on it plenty of times before.

Passkeys were essentially a sheet of plastic that had a strip of magnetic coating on it, into which a code of numbers was plugged. Ken could make one of those- he'd had a project to make a holodisc that would be capable of carrying eight gigabytes. Those were made of the same materials as a passkey was, so he could use the leftovers and Dee-Jay wouldn't even know what Ken was up to.

The code, Ken had gotten a few days after the computer lesson. Dee-Jay had given Ken a list of files that he could and could not access- some because he felt the content was too mature for a twelve-year-old boy, and some because he had said they were 'None of Ken's business.' The file Ken had sliced into had been the code for the elevator shaft. He'd also poked into a few others, which Dee-Jay had never allowed him to look at, about the history of the Empire and some of it's key leaders. Apparently, the Emperor had a biological son- that had been interesting enough but Ken hadn't read very far into the file before it had redirected him to a blue screen. All Ken had had the chance to read was that this son of Emperor Palpatine's had been deemed 'dangerous and insane', had three eyes, and was called 'Triclops'. Past that, Ken didn't know, nor did he care at this moment.

He had his passkey. Now, all he had to do was leave.

And say goodbye.

* * *

"_It... cannot be..." Triclops whispered. Viro sat with his legs crossed, brow creased in an equally consternated with this new frustrating development. Both of them were frowning down at an image that had obviously happened long ago- years, if not months. One of a figure that was unmistakably the same as the one Triclops and Viro shared in a private conference with the Emperor himself, but in that same, distinct backdrop that meant the meeting had taken place inside a dreamscape._

"_So... there's been a THIRD version of you running around and wrecking mayhem behind our backs." Viro snarled, eyes burning as they watched the scene with the most hateful glare that seemed to send spears and arrows through the figures they were watching._

"_But... why... and how did this?" Triclops had long since brought a hand up to cover his mouth as he shook with shock. Either Viro didn't notice or he was letting Triclops vent his confusion and fear without criticism._

"_Probably the same reason and way that I came around..." Viro mused, though half to himself, "Except instead of fighting back, this one thought that you would be best protected if he cooperated, and then They wouldn't punish you so much." Triclops didn't respond, so Viro continued, "In any case, it doesn't matter except that we've gotta find out how to stop him, if not get rid of him completely now."_

_Again, Triclops didn't say anything to this except to bring both his hands up to cover his face and start shaking his head. Viro huffed a little, seeing that the original personality was obviously going to be of no help or use, but knew from experience that nothing he said would change this._

"_This cannot be... this cannot be..." Triclops whispered over and over. Viro resisted the urge to point out that, yes, it could be, but Triclops' mantra to the contrary told him that it wouldn't have done any good, anyway._

"_Anyway, getting rid of him is gonna be the tough part- the best I can think of is to see if we could try to suppress him so that he can't do any damage..." Viro casually discussed over Triclops' rambling, as though there were someone else to talk to, "But that'll leave him here... and I don't wanna share MY room with a creep like that... but I don't think YOU wanna do that, either..."_

_Triclops started to rock._

"_Or we could try and get rid of him completely... but THAT'S gonna cause some problems because neither of us know HOW or if it's even possible..." Viro continued to talk._

"_This cannot be... this cannot be... this cannot be..." Triclops kept on rocking._

"_Or, you could try repeating that over and over and hope that he disappears- It's a long shot, since you tried the same thing with ME and we both know how well that turned out." Viro finally added, sarcastically, "But you could always TRY."_

"_This cannot be..." Rock, rock, rock._

_Viro waited a few more minutes, watching Triclops rock back and forth, muttering 'This cannot be', before he resigned to his fate and got comfortable for the wait until Triclops returned to coherency._

* * *

Weeks went by. Ken didn't leave. He couldn't, yet. Part of it was that he was too scared to go up to Topworld- Dee-Jay had said that a lot of places weren't like the pictures, that they were barren and harsh and ruined by war or time or population. What if Yavin Four was like that on the surface? What if he really DID get hurt or kidnapped or something that the droids had always said 'It could happen to YOU'? What if he got lost?

But more than that, Ken was scared of what would happen if he tried to run away and got CAUGHT. He was itching to go outside as it was- but if he got out and then was just dragged back to the Lost City by the roots of his hair or something, he'd NEVER be allowed out again. Everything would be gone if he screwed up, even a little, on this. What would happen if he got to the surface and couldn't find anyway to contact the Alliance or meet another person, or Dee-Jay had found out and stopped him before he got there?

So Ken kept waiting. And trying, unsuccessfully, to probe Dee-Jay into telling him more about his parents and who had brought him here.

"I had to have parents at SOME point, right? I cannot be clone, and I could not be some kind of test-tube experiment. So why will you not tell me?" It was reasonable, which made Ken even madder when Dee-Jay's retort was just as reasonable to any logical mind, but unreasonable to Ken, simply because he wanted it to be unreasonable.

"You are not yet old enough. If you were told now, you would not be able to understand or appreciate the matter of who your parents were." Dee-Jay replied, and the simplicity of his argument and the firmness of his voice infuriated Ken for a moment, before he pounced on something else.

"HA! You just said 'were'! So, that means they are not my parents anymore, which means..." Oh, wait... this wasn't a good discovery at ALL!

"Ken, this is something you must wait until you are older to..." Ken interrupted Dee-Jay, uncaring for the lecture.

"Dee-Jay, are my parents... dead?" Ken asked. Dee-Jay said nothing for a long moment, but Ken wasn't sure if it was Dee-Jay's programming or if the droid was contemplating something about Ken's question.

"I cannot tell you." Dee-Jay said at last, "That is something that must wait."

Ken had said nothing after that. The lesson had continued as usual after that, but Ken hadn't listened and didn't care when Dee-Jay gave him extra homework for spacing out- he felt entitled to sulking, anyway. He was trying to find out something about his parents- the people who were responsible for him even BEING here in the first place- and not only had he been roughly told that he wasn't allowed to know anything about them until he was 'older' but it wasn't any of his business if they were even alive anymore or not?

Ken didn't sleep well that night. He was too busy being upset about what Dee-Jay had said.

Night turned into midnight, which turned into morning. Ken had finally fallen asleep, only to be woken up before he'd gotten his eight hours of sleep, courtesy of a particular fuzzball who didn't seem to really care that Ken was still tired.

"Gi'd'wn... Z'bo..." He pulled his pillow over his head and scrunched up into a ball under the blanket to stop the mooka from licking his face or ears. Zeebo was not deterred in the least and proceeded to burrow under the blanket with him until he could lick at Ken's exposed bellybutton and tickle him with his tail feathers.

With a rather un-manly shriek, Ken kicked until his foot found Zeebo and sent him flying out from under the covers and across the room. This was followed with even more rustling to protect himself from further wake-up calls, resulting in Ken being somewhat cocooned in his blankets after a great deal of rolling around and twisting.

The next thing that he felt was something very sharp and hard close around his littlest toe, definitely hard enough to leave a bruise. His next shriek was even more un-manly than the first, if that was possible.

"LEGGO OF MY FOOT!" Ken continued flailing about said foot with very little avail to dislodging Zeebo's beak from where it had bitten down around his toes. Zeebo kept on, not gnawing, but still not letting go. After a long moment, Ken sat up and reached over to his desk, hoping to find some kind of book to throw at the mooka so he'd release Ken's foot, but the moment Ken took his eyes off his pet, the creature relinquished his toes and darted onto his pillow.

As soon as the fight had begun, it ended with Ken staring, disgustedly, at Zeebo as he curled up on Ken's pillow. After a moment of Ken glaring at his pet, one of Zeebo's beady, black eyes opened and met his gaze. There was another long pause, before Zeebo apparently felt Ken deserved some explanation and said, simply,

"My pillow."

Ken rolled his eyes and got off his bed, resolve even more firm than ever before. He strode over to his desk and rummaged around for his datapad- he'd hidden the home-made card key inside the slot where information files normally went.

"Some friend you are- see if I ever feed you again." He spat, feeling cross and tired and snappish. For some reason, everyone he had ever known just didn't seem to be like his family anymore- if droids could be called family, anyway. Ken had never really liked HC anyway, Chip hadn't been the same since that whole reprogramming that had made him into more of a miniature Dee-Jay, and Ken was fed up with Dee-Jay always talking about Ken 'not-being-old-enough' or 'not-being-ready'. Now, it was Zeebo.

"You'll feed me because those droids won't, and you know it." Zeebo didn't even flinch as he let the retort slip out, but it just made Ken angrier as he flopped back down on his bed with the datapad in hand.

"Well, they will have to feed you now, will they not? I am not even going to miss any of you." The moment the words were out of his mouth, Ken felt like a jerk for saying it. Zeebo didn't retort, but Ken felt a little, warm body rubbing against his back, starting with the bony push of a little head covered in four-ears. Then, Ken heard Zeebo whine. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to see the pitiful look the mooka was giving him.

"We'll miss YOU..." Whimpered Zeebo. Ken's bad mood started to expand to include 'rotten' to the list. Zeebo padded onto Ken's lap to push his head against Ken's stomach. Ken half-heartedly scratched him behind the ears, distracted by his datapad.

"No, you will not." He muttered and when Zeebo's ears rolled back to lay flat on his head, Ken amended the statement, "Well... you will, but they will not. You told me- droids cannot feel real emotions." Now, 'miserable' was going onto the list of things Ken was feeling. Maybe that was part of the reason he'd wanted to run away in the first place- no matter what he did, he could get reactions out of Zeebo, but not the droids, and it just... bothered him. If he just left, he almost hoped they would understand and maybe something would change.

But they wouldn't miss him. Ken knew that, and it... well, it did SOMEthing and it did it a LOT.

Ken tried to take a deep breath in through his nose and found that incredibly difficult to do. He tried a few more times before his nasal passages cleared enough for him to breathe without sniffing. But he didn't cry- he was too old to cry.

Somehow, Ken was kind of glad when Chip came in and started telling him to get ready for lessons.

* * *

Luke didn't sleep well. For those who knew him well enough- in other words, only Han and Leia and MAYBE Artoo and Threepio- this was no surprise. Luke hadn't slept well for the entirety of the war with the Empire and his Jedi training. It was something he was used to.

Something else that was characteristic of his dreams was seeing visions of his old Masters speaking to him, sending messages through the Force. It was thus no surprise when, halfway through the night, Luke awoke and found Obi-Wan Kenobi standing over his bed. Luke had not only been unsurprised, he'd actually been quite thankful- at least he was in his own quarters instead of a medcenter hospital bed and not recovering from Dark Side lightning injuries, as when Obi-Wan had appeared to him for the Bakuran mission.

Broken bones still healing? Burn scars? Smashed mechanical had that still didn't have all the parts to work correctly? He was just peachy.

"Ben? What're you...?" Luke pushed himself off his pillow and squinted at the apparition. Obi-Wan's face remained calm, even as Luke tried to sit up all the way- his ribs still ached if he moved the wrong way.

"You've been doing well, I see." Obi-Wan noted, almost sarcastically but much more gentle. Or, for all Luke knew, how he was doing could have been relatively well compared to something Obi-Wan might have gone through. There was no real way to know.

"I guess." Luke replied, evenly, but he couldn't meet his old mentor's eyes. Between the time that Obi-Wan had last come to him in a vision and now, so much had happened and Luke had done very little regarding the Jedi. And the little he had done had fallen to pieces every single time.

"I also see that you've been having a troublesome time with apprentices." Obi-Wan noted. Luke still looked away, the number of times he had attempted- and failed- to train an apprentice coming to his memory in the forefront.

"You... could say that..." He muttered, not really wanting to admit it. The two big examples he was thinking of were Kiro and Flint, "...I guess I'm just trying to understand as much as I can about the Old Order... maybe learn what it is I'm supposed to build towards..."

"You've been doing better than you give yourself credit for." Obi-Wan said, almost sharply, but more like he was poking at Luke's inflated inferiority complex with something pointed than trying to bruise Luke's ego, "There's only so far that one can go if their path isn't illuminated just a little bit for them."

From Luke's past experiences with Obi-Wan, when he started talking like this, it meant he was going to give Luke a piece of advice that would help. Luke's ears perked up.

"You say this as though you plan on illuminating a few more steps for me." He said, cautiously. Obi-Wan's old, wrinkled face melted into that old smile that Luke knew so well.

"There is a particular wealth of information that you are- pardon the pun- literally sitting on." Obi-Wan conceded. Although Luke didn't visibly react to the information, on the inside, he was perked up and watching his old master like a puppy expecting a treat. He also couldn't suppress the image that Obi-Wan had somehow seen him perk up, anyway.

"A... what, exactly?" He pressed. Obi-Wan waited a moment before answering- whether it was to be sure he had Luke's attention or because he was searching for the right word for it, Luke wasn't sure.

"If you go beneath the surface of the planet, you will find a library the Jedi built in ancient times- it contains all the knowledge of the Force and the history of the Jedi to date, all the customs, virtually every secret there is to know about the universe, so long as it can be found as a fact." Obi-Wan replied, mysteriously, "And..."

Luke's fingers clenched in his sheets as he leaned forward with anticipation.

"And?"

"...You might find something very similar to yourself down there, too..."

* * *

Well, getting away from home was one thing, but getting away from Chip AND HC combined was another matter altogether. Ken managed, somehow, even if he still wasn't sure of how he did so, himself. Both droids had been pestering him about some stupid homework assignment that Ken hadn't intended to hand in, anyway, and Ken had essentially blown them both off and stormed out of his house under pretense of going to classes. He was pleased, however, to note that he still remembered the way to the elevator shaft, and even more pleased that his home-made key worked.

"Master Ken, what do you think you are DOING?" That would be, of course, when Chip came in.

Ken turned on his heel and glared at the droid, as though his eyes were trying to accuse Chip of ruining his runaway attempt at this moment. Which, logically, Ken supposed he was. Afterall, it was partially Chip's fault Ken was running away in the first place, and now the droid had the figurative nerve to come along and try to stop Ken.

"Why do you not come and see?" He snapped, tone challenging to any other living creature but simply insolent and demanding to a droid's circuitry and programming, which altered Chip's reaction. Ken didn't realize this- in fact, he'd known from the start that Chip would react this way.

"You are trying to go to Topworld- even when you know it is expressly forbidden and you will face serious consequences. Do you simply not care? Or do you think there is some way you can justify this when Dee-Jay finds out? I will tell you, he will not be very pleased..." Chip's rambling settled into the back corner of Ken's brain as he stared, temporarily struck dumb at the closest thing to a friend he'd ever had. Chip had followed him here, even when Chip hadn't known that he'd be trying to run away- that meant that Chip knew something else, which meant he'd blab to Dee-Jay the minute Ken disappeared.

It wasn't a chance Ken was going to take- especially not when he only had one shot at this. He reached out and grabbed Chip's heavy metal arm and dragged him into the elevator shaft with him, barely brushing through the doors as they shut.

Ken had only seen the outside of the elevator before- the inside was something he had been completely unprepared for. It was entirely white and lit up with orange tinted lights that Ken was entirely unused to. Everything seemed duller and dirtier under the light, for some reason- Ken looked down at his hands and could have sworn they were just the lightest shade of brown darker instead of the normally stark white they were supposed to be. Just seeing it made Ken cringe- he hurriedly pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket and stuck his hands into them, as though they would protect him from some invisible force that might attack any centimeter of skin he left exposed.

"Oh, and now what have you done? Oh, Master Ken this is precisely why this kind of journey was forbidden- you have no idea what can happen up there. There is bound to be SOMETHING just waiting for us to step out of the transport so it can swallow us whole... or worse, there will be something in the air- I will rust in a matter of minutes and you will not be able to breathe and THEN what will we do?"

Ken closed his eyes and breathed deeply, ignoring Chip's ramblings. The air inside the elevator smelled... different, somehow- not as sharp and chilling to his throat and lungs. It almost seemed softened by something, like how water could either have a lot of minerals in it, be pure dihydrogen monoxide, or have salt in it, except it was the air this time.

And if Ken had been listening to Chip, anyway, all he would have thought to retort was 'It was not like I could breathe down there, anyway.'

The elevator started to move. It started as a jolt, then started to move even quicker, speeding up as it went. Ken felt like a huge weight was being pressed on him, first lightly, then increasingly pushing him down, down. He gripped onto the railing and leaned against the wall, but his knees felt like they were being crushed, and as though his shoulders were being squeezed into his knees as he was passed through a very small tube.

"...ow..." Ken managed to whisper as the pressure grew in his ears. As if that weren't enough, his stomach was squeezing and writhing, almost like he would be sick again but there was nothing to be sick on.

"You see- I TOLD you. This was such a bad idea, I do not know what you were thinking. Oh, what if something happens in this elevator and neither of us ever makes it to the surface? I never was meant to withstand the pressure change, nevermind that you might not be able to withstand it either- what if we are crushed in here? Or if your eardrums explode and my wires snap? Or... or... I do not know what else might happen but something is BOUND to go wrong..."

Ken slid down to the floor, trying to breathe against the weight on his chest- he could do it but it HURT, and it felt like he was breathing through a thin tube that was being pinched shut and only the pressure of the air he was breathing in and out was keeping it opened.

And then, the elevator slowed. The queasiness and pressure faded, but Ken's ears still felt like someone had stuck their fingers into his inner ears and squeezed his eardrums, and there was something odd about the air- it smelled the same as when Ken had gotten in and he was somewhat used to it but it... felt odd. He felt almost like he was breathing in air that had been thinned out, that was more fluid, that went down in streams instead of chunks.

Ken took a deep breath- it wasn't too bad. He could get used to it.

The door slid open and Ken staggered out, still a little dizzy from his ears hurting so much, but that too was fading. There was a wall to lean against, enough for him to take a few deep breaths and recover from the dizziness before he stood straight. The inside of the room they were in was dark, but Ken could see light peeking out from somewhere around the corner. Ken followed it with a fretful Chip on his heels.

Ken rounded the corner and saw a rounded door outlined by bright light that made him close his eyes and grope along the wall for the door. When he finally did open his eyes he almost shut them again because the light was so bright- It was the same as the orange light inside of the elevator, shining so brightly and so colorfully that everything looked like different colors than Ken had ever seen them before. The silver color all of his clothes were even seemed to have a different tint to them, though Ken couldn't tell quite what color it was.

But more than anything, everything was so different- the light felt warm on his skin, penetrating through his eyelids when he closed them and going all the way down to his bones as he stood and soaked it up. The air was still thinner than the air he was used to breathing, but it was so rich with the smells and tastes of a forest that it filled him up when he took a breath- there was a sweet, sour, bitter, and savory taste in his mouth as he took the air in and then a sweet sour, bitter, and savory smell as he let it out through his nose and it seemed to press on his skin like hands and fingers holding him from all directions. His ears still rang from being released from the pressure, but they seemed to ring with something else now as every sound in the forest filled his ears. Every little vibration seemed to tremble against whatever skin Ken had open to the air, making his heart beat in time with the bird and animal calls from all around him.

It was too much- Ken let gravity take over and pull him down to the ground. Instead of a hard hit on the floor, Ken felt as though something had been supporting him all the way down and gently letting him settle. The ground and grass made a soft, squishy but crinkling noise, breaking the fall as Ken hit and individual strands tickled his cheeks as he turned his head to rest his face against the ground. All the warm sunlight and the soft, sweet-smelling grass, Ken could have fallen asleep.

It was the clanking of Chip banging his metallic head against the marble wall around the elevator tube that interrupted Ken's sunny solstice.

"Oh, what have we done NOW? This is so out of place and against the rules- how will we ever survive? You did not think to bring food or water along, did you? And what if I break a limb or blow a circuit? You will not be able to repair me without any..." Ken got off the ground and strode over to Chip, pulling him away from the wall and with him into the thickets.

And just like that, Ken walked away, taking Chip with him as they went deeper into the forest.

A/N: O-kay. The title song is done by Linkin Park. Yeah, I know, typical. But, considering that there were so many other 'Runaway' songs I could have used, it took me a long time to decide on this one. Appreciate the work I put into this for you, bitches!

Um, yeah- I'm moving out from under my parental unit's dominion. This means, among other things, that I'll need to have my own apartment. I'm kind of stressed, if you can't tell. If you want to help and have a few extra dollars to throw my way, go check out my deviantart gallery at Insert the usual http stuff here phastine(dash)moon(dot)deviantart(dot)com. I've got some stuff up for sale as prints (Though not Star Wars related, because that's where copyright comes in) and if you like what you see, feel free to click on the shopping bag. I would be oh-so-grateful.


	12. Part II: Chapter 2

PRINCE

By Sapadu

Chapter 2: The Way

"_You can the shadows wandering off somewhere. They won't make it home, but they really don't care."_

"Something similar to myself? All I see is dirt. Is this the something similar, Ben?" Luke muttered, face still somewhat buried in the ground. It was humiliating- even though nobody had been around to see, Luke had gone in to maneuver a landing among the trees in his X-wing, just barely missing several old trunks, only to hit a thump as a rock under one of his wheels moved out of place. This had caused the cockpit to alert the emergency evacuation- probably Wes' tinkering at work- and send Luke flying into the air, completely unprepared for it.

"Never tell ANYONE about this." Luke swore to himself, before his ears stopped ringing enough that he could sit up and shake the dust off of his jumpsuit before surveying the damage done to his X-wing. Thankfully, there was none, except for the ejected pilot's seat. That was simple- he could put it back in without even needing a welder. Once Luke regained his bearings, he gave the surrounding area a quick glance.

After his dream or vision- the two became so easily intertwined or sometimes mixed up for him- when Obi-Wan had appeared to him, Luke had climbed into his X-wing and simply started flying. He hadn't used any map or directions, he hadn't even brought Artoo along with him, though that was more because the little astromech was gone with Threepio by Leia's request. Because of that, Luke really had no clue where he'd ended up- he hadn't even looked out of his window, just in case he started to try and plan his destination. The only thing telling him where to go was the Force- whispering in the back of his ear, pulling him from the very center of his being...

And THIS was where it had taken him.

There were trees in every direction- Luke had never seen so many trees so tightly packed together. There were the tall, tall trees, and the skinny, vine-like trees, and the little, shrubby trees, and every other kind of tree you could imagine. There were spots of trees that had nothing but bare soil under their shade, as though they had sucked all the green out of it, then spots of trees that had moss growing over their trunks, roots, and rocks, then spots of trees that had grass and flowers and bushes tightly encircling the bases of their trunks.

Seriously, Luke had never thought this much green could exist in a single place. Then again, he'd lived his whole life on a sand-covered hunk of rock that never saw even an inch of rain throughout the year.

But more than that, Luke could feel something- both above and under all the smells and sounds and feelings of a hot, humid rainforest. There was something in the air that seemed to... tug. Like a specific scent that was singularly different from the trees and earth and greenery was being fed to his nose by an invisible tube. Like the ground was moving, ever so slowly, beneath his feet, trying to pull him in a specific direction. Like the wind was pushing against him in the same direction that the ground was trying to tug him. Luke could tell- he could feel it. Something was telling him where to go.

Go East.

Luke started walking, letting his feet move without knowing where they would take him or how he would get there. All he knew was that the voice inside of him was telling him to just keep going forward.

And not look back.

* * *

"_This... is... Spar-ta..." Viro cheered, unenthusiastically, as he and Triclops watched the battle rage from their dreamscape. Triclops had at least stopped rocking and mumbling, but now, he wasn't speaking or moving at all. Viro cast one eye towards Triclops, expecting to see a reaction to his words. Triclops didn't even twitch- as though he couldn't hear at all. Viro let out a sigh and turned back to watching what they were seeing._

_Apparently, the She-Bitch known as Isard had a plan called 'Project Ambition'. Really original, but it was a sucky title for keeping the idea secret, though Viro supposed it was better than 'Project Take-over-the-Empire-with-me-as-the-new-ruler'. And, hearing about the Prophet's plans to resurrect the old Emperor and use him as a puppet, she decided that they were gonna bite it._

"_Whaddya bet they kill each other off and then we don't have to deal with ANY of them anymore?" Viro asked, sneering as the fat one opened his big mouth and swallowed three stormtroopers whole. It was kind of gross, especially as Viro could see the stains of brown on his teeth when he began chewing and the sound of crunching and squealing intermingled with the squishing._

_Triclops said nothing. Viro glanced over to the other end of the room, where the one with the lazy eye had just used his own shadow to strangle another four stormtroopers. It was actually kind of cool to see just these seven guys- guys who had been experimented on by the psychos running the Kessel spice mine laboratories, no less- taking out all these heavily armed troopers without getting so much as a scratch. There was some stuff that Viro could see quite obviously where they had the advantage- hell, the fat guy had mouths implanted in the palms of his hands; teeth, tongues, and everything. But he couldn't quite tell what it was that the freaky ones were doing- the short guy just seemed to have magnets in his hands, especially with the way the blaster bolts were being deflected and the guns being pulled towards him, and the really friggin' tall guy just wouldn't die, no matter how many times the troopers shot at him._

_And not understanding things like this pissed Viro off._

"_But then... who will protect Kendal?"Triclops finally spoke. Viro almost jumped, but had to frown._

"_Um... what does that have to do with THEM? Won't everyone dying just mean there's nothing to protect the little larvae FROM?" He pointed out. Triclops didn't raise his eyes to meet Viro's, simply staring down as though fixated on the battle before them. Given that Viro knew his landlord of a second personality was hematophobic and despised violence in all its forms, that meant something else had to be catching his attention. He looked back, following Triclops gaze to one of the other prophet guys. The one who actually had a lightsaber out._

"_That one is the same as us." He said, quietly. Viro cocked an eyebrow at Triclops, looking back and forth between the single being they had zoomed in on and the other personality. This man... well, Viro could see physical resemblances. His hair was obviously dyed black, since Viro could see the white roots of his beard and hair, and his eyebrows were a dead giveaway. His face was still young, but looked aged from considerable strain and suffering, exactly like Triclops' did. And his eyes were definitely queer enough- a strange mix of deep, jade green and ice blue, and the pupils a shape that were just barely off from the traditional circle shape, though Viro couldn't quite tell HOW. But more than that, there were scars on his lower eyelids, almost looking like elongated eyelashes._

"_...How'd you figure?" Viro finally asked, watching as the particular prophet completed the saber maneuver of Master Windu's with a serpentine perfection, landing on his feet with catlike elegance._

"_He has lost someone important to him, too." Triclops replied, "The look in his eyes... the lost look of despair and desperation... He is lonely, just like us."_

_Viro blinked, before turning back to watch the ensuing battle. And, while he couldn't see this so called 'look' in the prophet's eyes, Viro could definitely see the reluctance with which he defended himself, as though fighting with a part of himself that truly did not want to live.

* * *

_"Master Ken, slow down. My joints were never meant for this kind of..." Chip protested as Ken plowed his way through the foliage, pausing every three seconds or so and changing course as he found something new to attract his attention.

"We have played tag, Jedi, Rogue Squadron, and star cruisers before- do not tell me you were not meant to run." Ken called back, attention focused on a small mammal with long, oval shaped ears before it darted into a hole. By that time however, "Hey, look- a butterfly!"

"I was GOING to say I was never meant for this kind of terrain- the ground is far too slippery! If you miss your footing, you may trip and fall and hit your head or break your arm or..." Chip trailed off as Ken proceeded to deliberately trip over a giant root sticking out of the ground, popping back up a second later and jumping up and down on the root.

"See! No broken bones, no sprained neck, nothing but dirt and grass stains. Now, come ON! We have places to go and things to see!"

Ken jumped back down to the grass carpeted floor of the forest. The grass and mud squished as he landed, wholly unlike back home which would have only hurt his feet as a thud resounded from his shoes.

So far, Ken had nothing to say about Topworld except that he loved it. The light that shone through the leaves kept him warm- a little too warm, as he had taken off his jacket and tied it around his waist within the first minute of exploring, and even then, he was now dripping with sweat. Oh well, that was what he got for having nothing but silver clothing. There was something new to look at every which way he turned, enough that Ken wondered if he could manage to grow an eye in the back of his head so he could look everywhere at once.

An eye in the back of his head... that... seemed familiar... where had that thought come from, anyway?

Ken dismissed the thought and kept on going, this time finding interest in a thick, bulging vine that crawled up the side of a tree. It meandered and twisted and overlapped with other branches of the vine, and little sprouts of leaves came off of it, and red, thickly layered petals that spiraled into the center- Ken had read about them, they were a flower from the _Rosa_ genus, but he didn't remember which species, especially since he'd been more fascinated by the pictures than the information about them. He also saw, at just a glance, that the vine was easily as big as his foot, before he realized that there was part of the forest he hadn't yet explored at all.

"Master Ken!" Chip squealed as Ken secured a foot and gripped a higher portion of the vine, starting to hoist himself up.

"Come on, Chip! We can see more from up here." Ken insisted, pulling his other foot up to another part of the vine. Not that he could tell, since he was looking mostly at the tree trunk, but... it was the thought that counted.

"That is not the point, Master Ken! I cannot climb... climb... TREES. And you should not be, either- Humans are not meant to do such things, you KNOW that! What if you slip and fall? You could break your arms or legs, or worse, your neck. Or what if you landed on something? You might not even make it to the ground!" Ken ignored Chip and kept on going higher up. The vine even meandered to the side, as though guiding Ken towards the lowest branch. It was a lot more fun than trying to climb onto the roof of his dome house, even if he had to watch out to be sure he didn't squish any of the flowers or stick his finger on any of the prickles.

"Please, Master Ken, come down before something happens..." Chip's voice sounded farther away- Ken looked down to see that, while he wasn't THAT far off the ground compared to the other branches, it was still a pretty considerable distance. One that he DIDN'T want to fall from. He quickly swung his legs up to the branch, clinging to it as his hands made their way over. One of them almost slipped, but that just made Ken cling to the branch even tighter, staring down at Chip so far away on the ground. Thankfully, the droid had at least gone silent.

After a moment when the branch stopped shaking and Ken's stomach stopped squirming, Ken dared to sit up a little and look around. He could definitely see more from up here- bushes and plants yards away that he hadn't seen from the ground, the tops of branches, brighter patches of sun, more of the blue, blue sky... It was almost enough to make him want to climb higher, except his stomach still remembered the branch shaking as he'd climbed.

The crunching of leaves and twigs under Chip's feet brought Ken to stare back down and see as his droid friend scurried away, into the bushes. Frowning, Ken leaned forward, wondering what it was that Chip had seen that he was chasing after. When he couldn't see Chip concealed behind the bush, Ken scooted forward on the branch a little more, ignoring how it bent so easily under his weight.

A little too easily, Ken realized as he heard a crack and found himself falling, head over feet, towards the ground.

"WHOA!" Ken knew he'd heard his own voice shout THAT out, but it had sounded weird. There had been... almost an echo to it, deeper and firmer. And it wasn't until Ken realized he hadn't hit the ground, but was being held just a few feet off the ground by something that he could tell were definitely arms that he realized it must have been whoever caught him that had shouted.

In a second, the arms set him down on the ground and Ken started to dust himself off, too embarrassed to look up and meet the gaze of the person who had caught him. Either the first person he ever met on Topworld had just seen him make a complete idiot of himself, or it was Dee-Jay, caught up with them, and Ken did NOT want to look up and see the smiling, pleasant face of doom staring him down.

"You okay, there?" Asked the voice which had also shouted as Ken had been caught. Ken continued staring at the person's shoes, as well as his own. This person wore boots, unlike Ken. They were covered in dust and dirt and stains, and met with the hem of pale, tan pants, almost like a uniform. And, frankly, the only kind of person Ken could think of who wore uniforms was the Empire, but theirs was a greenish-gray, usually accompanied by knee-high black boots instead of these hiking-wear that this person was wearing, so frankly, Ken was stumped.

He also felt incredibly childish, wearing all silver, from his jacket and shirt, down to his soft, moccasin-like shoes.

"...Yes... Yes, I am okay." Ken managed, still not looking up. He heard the person shift a little to look up at the tree-probably to survey the damage Ken had done by falling out- and that was when Ken risked a peek, hoping that this person at least wouldn't see him stare.

One peek, and that was all it took- Ken outright gaped at the person standing before him, still examining the tree. The off-brown, straw-colored hair; the tanned, oval-shaped face; the round chin; the gleaming eyes...

The very person who had caught Ken, falling out of the tree- the very first person Ken had met on Topworld- was... Luke Skywalker? It seemed too good to be true- after all, what would the great Luke Skywalker be doing just wandering around a forest like this, for no reason whatsoever? Ken knew that, as the only living Jedi Knight, Luke Skywalker wouldn't have time to just go for leisurely strolls in the forest- not to mention that this was a pretty out of the way part of the forest. And, for that matter, it wasn't like the Alliance could spare the Commander of the Rogue Squadron and the Red Squadron- they still needed all hands on deck for the recovery efforts.

Maybe... maybe this guy just LOOKED a lot like him...

"First time climbing trees, right?" The man who looked like Luke Skywalker guessed, looking back down. Seeing his face straight on, he looked even more like Luke Skywalker than ever- Ken had gone back to look at the pictures on the datapad so many times that he couldn't mistake this person as anyone else, but that little nagging doubt of impossibility still tugged at the back of his mind. Ken shrugged, trying to be casual.

"...But I still made it to the first branch. And I did not even need a boost." Ken finally managed to say as soon as he recovered his voice. The Luke Skywalker-that-couldn't-possibly-really-be-him smiled, even furthering the appearance that Ken had seen in the holoclippings. Still, it wasn't like Ken could just ask 'Are you really Luke Skywalker or not?'

"That's always the first step. Now, where did you come from?" The man's tone became confused as he looked around, as though expecting to see a spaceship or house appear out of nowhere, before looking back down at Ken. Ken blinked and tried to look as small as possible.

"...What... do you mean?" He asked, carefully. His stomach was starting to knot up, though Ken didn't know if that was from hunger or because he was nervous. After all, an Imperial spy would want to know about the Lost City of the Jedi- why not dress up as Luke Skywalker to get that information?

"There aren't any settlements around here that I was aware of- do your parents live nearby or is this a temporary stop?" The man pressed. Ken shifted a little, easing his weight onto his back leg.

"I do not have any parents." He said, slowly. The man raised his eyebrows at Ken, his forehead wrinkling in a way that looked terribly uncomfortable. Ken started to scoot a little back, just in case the man made a grab for him or he had to run.

"Really?" The man asked, his eyes... for lack of a better word, warming, "That's always tough... Where do you live, then? Other family?" Ken took another step back, then saw the man frown and take a step forward, following Ken.

"It does not matter- I am running away, anyway." Ken answered- if this undercover agent or whoever he was wanted the location of the Lost City, Ken wasn't going to give it to him easy. However, he could see the man's frown deepen- Ken must have said it a little too bluntly that he didn't want this man to know.

"That's dangerous, especially for a kid your age." He said, tone mimicking Dee-Jay's old, concerned but stern lecture voice. This did not endear Ken to him much more- he HAD to be a spy.

"Why do you care- You do not know who I am and I do not know who YOU are..." Ken answered. The man kept blinking- at what, Ken couldn't imagine- but finally smiled again.

"I guess I should explain that... so... first, introductions- your name?" He agreed, smiling a little. Ken kept his eye fixed on the man, still expecting him to try to make a grab or start chasing.

"Ken." Ken said, quietly. The man was quiet for a long time afterwards, before Ken realized he was waiting for Ken to offer a last name, "Just Ken." The man's eyebrows raised again, but then he shrugged, accepting this with another small smile.

"In that case, you can call me Luke." Ken felt his eyes grow wide and round, almost hurting around the corners. Something inside him shifted, as though a hole had been blasted through the floor of his stomach, leaving everyone standing on it to fall through to his feet.

"Luke?" He asked, voice suddenly feeling dryer than a below zero frozen ice cube, "As in... Luke Skywalker?" One part of Ken wanted to hope, wished it really would be him, but at the same time, he didn't really want it to be the very man he'd wanted to meet his whole life, this man who he had both made fool of himself in front of and been horribly rude to in the last five minutes.

Luke raised his eyebrows, but then nodded, slowly.

"So... you ARE Commander Luke Skywalker?" Luke nodded, "Commander of the Red Squadron and Commander and founder of the Rogue Squadron?" Luke nodded, "Last known Jedi Apprentice of Jedi Master Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi?" Luke nodded, "Son of Anakin Skywalker, twin brother of Princess Leia Organa?" Luke nodded, "Hero of the Battle of Yavin who blew up the first Death Star after rescuing the Princess and delivering the Death Star plans to the Alliance?"

Instead of just nodding like he had before, Luke started to smile a little, finally putting his hands on his hips.

"So, you HAVE heard of me, then?" He asked, amused. Ken felt his ears and face heat up and his eyes started to itch with the heat making them water up. Out of sheer embarrassment, Ken dropped to one knee. Then, he felt incredibly stupid for doing so and tried to pretend he was just retying his shoe, only to remember his shoes didn't have laces.

"I... I am sorry... I recognized your picture from seeing it so many times in holoclippings and library files... but I thought it could not possibly be you, because what would a Jedi Knight be doing out in the forest like this... and I thought you must have just been an Imperial spy or... or..." Ken stopped rambling as he saw a tan pant covered knee touch the ground next to him, looking up to see that Luke had knelt down as well.

Ken was quiet for a long moment as Luke's smile grew even more amused.

"You can stand back up." He said, finally, extending a hand to pull Ken back to his feet. Ken felt his face growing hot again.

"I am sorry... I was so rude just now..." Ken started, but heard Luke start to chuckle, which brought Ken's voice to a stuttering halt.

"If it makes you feel any better, I was hardly the prime example of manners when I first met Yoda." Luke said, firmly bringing down the door on Ken's stammering apologies. After a moment, of Ken's mouth working uselessly, he finally shut it and listened for Luke to continue with his own explanation of what he was doing out here.

"S-so... um, what are you doing out here, Commander Skywalker?" He finally asked.

"To be perfectly frank, I was looking for something. I was told that information about the Old Jedi Order would be found somewhere around here..." Luke trailed off, looking around as though to demonstrate to his point.

"By a vision of your old Master or something?" Ken piped up. Luke smiled again, thinly.

"Exactly. To be precise, he said that I would find a... how did he put it... a wealth of information that I was literally sitting on." Luke went on. Ken could feel the gears in his head clicking away as things started to fall together.

"Like a library?" He guessed, eyes going wide. Luke blinked at him a little more, but Ken could see a light starting up in those blue eyes of his before Luke leaned down and put his hands on Ken's shoulders.

"Ken... do you know of something that could be this library? Have you seen anything, do you know anything at all?" He asked, seriously. Ken blinked back, head reeling and heart thumping wildly in his chest. In all honesty, he hadn't even understood the question- his head was filled with 'Luke Skywalker is touching me, Luke Skywalker is touching me, Luke Skywalker is touching me'. Once that mantra faded away and Ken started to comprehend that Luke had spoken to him, the next thought to enter Ken's head was 'He called me by my name, He called me by my name, He called me by my name'.

"Um..." Ken managed, feebly. That was when Chip popped out of his hiding place.

"Master Ken, you cannot possibly be considering telling this man anything. How do you know for sure that this is the real Luke Skywalker? For all you know, this could be an agent of the Empire or worse, one of the Emperor's old sith apprentices coming to find..." If Ken could have strangled the droid, he would have liked to, just then. The only thing that kept Ken from doing more than giving his droid friend a disgusted look was that Luke Skywalker had suddenly turned his attention to Chip, curiosity evident in his gaze.

"Chip, this IS Commander Skywalker- he just said that he was." Ken protested, gesturing to Luke as though to illustrate his point.

"Oh, and you certainly are one to be playing authority when, just this morning, HC graded your quiz on the history of the Galactic Civil War and found that you thought Commander Skywalker had flown the _Millenium Falcon_ during the Battle of Yavin." Chip demanded.

Oh yeah... Ken had forgotten about that...

"...Shut up, Chip..." Ken finally muttered, lips barely fluttering as his face darkened to red. The glaring contest between Ken and the droid was broken when Ken heard something that sounded a lot like a snicker from Luke's direction. Ken looked over, blinking owlishly as he saw Luke with his knuckles covering his mouth.

"...Don't mind me..." Luke finally managed, still obviously smiling as he tried not to laugh. Ken stared at him for a moment longer, argument with Chip forgotten as he observed the way Luke was behaving- for one thing, the way he talked was very different from almost every other model he'd had for speaking. The only one who ever had talked like THIS was Zeebo... and Zeebo was, well, rude compared to Luke. And, of course, Luke's voice was so different compared to the droids or the snide mooka that had woken Ken up every morning- it varied in it's tone and pitch and the way that Luke's mouth moved to fit the words and sounds he made... that alone seemed to make the words sound different, more fluid than before.

Then, he seemed to keep moving, and the way he did, it was either large, sweeping movements, or little, detailed motions- nothing like a stiff, clumsy droid. Just like Ken, Luke kept shifting his weight from one leg to the other, but he did it in a manner that seemed more like a rocking motion, moving smoothly along a curved line rather than in the rusty, creaking manner that the droids- and frequently, Ken himself- moved in. Ken's heart started to hammer even faster.

"...Um... Ken..." Ken started, blinking as he realized Luke was talking to him, "...You're staring." Ken's intelligent response was to continue blinking, feeling as though something larger than his whole body had just landed on his head and cracked in two.

"...Am I?" Ken managed. Luke nodded, slowly. Ken scuffed his foot against the ground, "Sorry?"

Ken could see Luke's lips and brow twitch a little, but he wasn't quite sure if it was a smile or a frown and either way, his face was perfectly neutral in a second, anyway.

"Don't apologize... just..." Luke kept his face straight, "...Did you have an answer to my question or... not?"

Ken blinked for a few minutes, before his brain clicked back a few dials.

"Question? Oh... that is right... you had a question... um..." Ken stammered, trying vainly to remember what the question had BEEN, but before he had the chance to answer, a loud disturbance of foliage from nearby broke the silence. There was the crash of branches being snapped and the crunch of grass and leaves and plants being crushed.

Ken felt himself being pushed behind Luke as he spun and activated his lightsaber in a single, fluid motion that made Ken wonder if Luke really was made of solid muscle and bone. The crunching, crashing noise grew louder. Ken pulled Chip by his arm so they were both hiding behind Luke before the branches of the bush right beside the tree parted and a tall, white, metallic torso, supported by high-powered legs and topped with a bearded face and glowing, red eyes stepped out towards them.

"Oh, SNAP!" Ken blurted out before he could stop himself. Luke looked back over his shoulder at Ken's appropriately mortified expression, before turning back to Dee-Jay.

"Ken..." Dee-Jay said, slowly and sternly, "You will have some explaining to do." Dee-Jay lifted his mighty hands and a white, foggy smoke with an acidic smell spurted from his fingertips. Ken covered his eyes, knowing full well from last time how much that stuff burned, but as soon as he had tried to duck and cover, Ken felt a small, thin hand punch him squarely in the stomach before he was lifted clear off the ground and flopped over a shoulder.

"Back home wid' ya'll, young man." A voice that did not sound like Dee-Jay's said in his ear. And then, Ken blacked out.

* * *

"I am not so sure that was the best way to deal with this..."

"He'll get over it."

"You are sure?"

"He just met his lifetime hero, dinnit he? 'Sides, I just know this kinda stuff."

"...I am not quite sure I have been programmed to understand humans such as yourself."

"Well, I prob'lly ain't in any encyclopedias 'round here, but I'd bet I'd have one volume all to m'self. And don't bitch about it- you needed me to tell you where he'd gotten to."

"Yes. Thank you."

"Oh, one more thing- Don't tell Master Retaw 'bout this when she comes down to check. 'Kay?"

"...If that is an order."

A/N: Wow... for all the procrastinating I did on this... I got it done in just a few days. Sorry about that folks. The song was done by Fastball (And, really, it was the one I had in mind for the previous chapter, but I forgot about it until I was writing this chapter and heard it on the radio... I SO wanted to kick myself.)


	13. Part II: Chapter 3

PRINCE

By Sapadu

A/N: O-kay... um, there's a good reason why I haven't updated in a while... really, there is. It's called 'Moving'. And then, 'Internet problems'. So, given that, I haven't even had a chance to WRITE, let alone update the story. And given that it's almost Christmas, I have to work more than ever now, AND I've been having issues with my family, I'll probably update... slowly... for now.

Chapter 3: Ring of Fire

_Bound by wild desire, I fell into a ring of fire._

"Luke, you SURE that you're okay?" Han asked through the door, as Luke threw on another change of clothes. His hair was still damp from washing up and he still hadn't eaten yet, but Luke didn't care- there was the pressing urgency, that need to go back out and find where he'd been the day before, find that boy again.

Just that one meeting had been enough for Luke to feel SOMETHING from him- a pull, a tug, almost like a magnet pulling on a stick of metal. Luke wasn't sure what it had been, but he did know that that boy was attuned with the Force. How strong he was and where he'd come from, Luke still didn't know, but that didn't matter- first, Luke needed to find him again.

"I'm fine, Han- tell Leia and the Rogues I might be late today." Luke called back, grabbing his lightsaber and a ration bar. The first, he clipped onto his belt, the second, he clipped between his teeth.

"What? But you're NEVER late!" Han protested as Luke opened the door and blasted past him for his X-wing.

"Gotta go, sorry." Luke called over his shoulder as he sprinted down the hall of the passenger ship that all the pilots and personnel of the Alliance called 'home'.

The encounter was repeated when Wedge, Hobs, and Wes showed up as Luke was suiting up for flight under his X-Wing.

"Seriously- you're leaving almost everyday, going out early, coming back late, and now you're blowing US off! What could be more important than the Rogues?" Wes pestered, though his sincerity was undermined by his poking through Luke's supplies for the day. Hobs kicked him.

"Or, for that matter, duties to the Alliance. Just a few weeks ago, you were talking about rebuilding the whole Jedi Order or something..." Wedge put in.

"And helping the Alliance rebuild it's forces." Hobs added.

"Not to mention rebuilding the entire GALAXY after the war." Wes muttered around his knuckle. Luke kept throwing his supplies together before he vaulted up the ladder.

"This is important guys. I'll explain when I get back, promise." Luke called, warming up the engines and testing all his emergency systems. There was silence from the three Rogues, before Luke heard Wes call,

"Lukie's got a GIRL-FRIEND!"

Under normal circumstances, Luke would have snapped at him, or at least made a clever retort to shut him up. Right now, however, he was too focused on what he was doing.

"Not even close. Something even better. See ya!" Luke threw on his helmet and the cockpit closed, locking out all sound so that he didn't hear Hobs' protest.

"There's NOTHING better than getting a girl!"

* * *

"Leia, could I ask you for a favor?" Wedge asked at the briefing, wondering how he'd gotten suckered into being the messenger boy. Probably for the best, though- he knew Leia better than Hobs and Wes was likely to make a smartass remark regarding Mon Mothma.

Leia raised an eyebrow, whispered back while keeping her eyes trained on their supreme commander in chief.

"What kind?"

Wedge did his best to look innocent.

"It's about Luke- when he gets back, could you have him... like, detained at the medcenter or something?" Wedge whispered, "Me and the other guys in the Rogue Squadron are pretty sure he's sick with SOME thing..."

How Leia was able to talk without moving her lips, Wedge would just kill to know.

"The medcenter doesn't recognize 'Being whipped' as a medical condition, unless you think this 'Girlfriend' you and Wes suspect has lobotomized him." Wedge kept his mouth shut as Mon Mothma shot a look in his direction.

"He said it was 'Something better'." Wedge pushed. He kept his voice as quiet as possible, but from the supremely disgusted look Leia shot him, he knew she'd heard him.

"He might have found a secret super laser built by ancient civilizations, which forces all people in the universe to get along, help each other, and treat their fellow beings in the spirit of goodwill and brotherhood when fired. Does that count as 'something better'?" Wedge shifted a little.

"...Hobbie and Wes asked me to ask you. That's all I'm saying."

Leia's disgusted look remained as she looked over Wedge's shoulder at Wes and Hobbie, who were innocently staring ahead and pretending they couldn't hear.

"Tell them to do their own dirty work."

* * *

"And guess what ELSE!" Ken asked Zeebo, all his anger at the mooka evaporated as he rubbed Zeebo's stomach with one hand and swatted his beak with the other when Zeebo tried to bite. After a moment, Zeebo tired with the tummy rub and flipped back over onto his paws, but did consent to being scratched behind the ears.

"You found pirate's treasure." Zeebo guessed, just as Ken had asked. Normally, Ken would have rolled his eyes. Now, however, he just kept grinning.

"I MET someone from Topworld!" Zeebo blinked his beady little eyes at Ken, then shook his way out from under Ken's fingers.

"Well, the world's just full of adventure." For a moment, Ken frowned, wondering if Zeebo was angry about this, but after a moment, the little fur ball was back on his lap, as though expecting more back scratching.

"Want to know who it was?" Ken asked, finally. Zeebo's eyes closed as Ken ruffled the fur around his neck.

"Prince Charming on his white horse." Zeebo replied, without missing a beat. Ken had to think about that for a moment- imagining Luke Skywalker on a white horse kind of made his brain hurt.

"No." Ken replied, rubbing a tangled knot of Zeebo's fur between his fingers. Zeebo didn't seem to notice.

"Your one true love." Zeebo guessed again. Ken rolled his eyes.

"It was LUKE SKYWALKER, Zeebo!" Ken finally said, too exasperated to listen to more guesses and too excited to keep it in any longer. Zeebo stared at Ken for a moment before he rolled over to bat at Ken's hands.

"I was CLOSE." He said. Ken rolled his eyes again, but continued to grin.

"Still, it was awesome. You should have BEEN there- he is SO cool!" Ken said, rolling onto his back with his feet in the air. Zeebo ended up on Ken's stomach with the boy still scratching his ears.

"So, good day then?" Zeebo asked. Ken's smile faded and he started nibbling at his lower lip. Zeebo blinked a little more.

"Well... that is the BAD part of the news..." Ken muttered. Zeebo's ears flattened against his head.

"What did you do THIS time?" He asked, dully. Ken pouted a little, but shifted his eyes away.

"Um... well... the thing is... when I went up to Topworld... I was leaving right from here, right?" Zeebo blinked, but nodded, "...So... I still had that datapad with me... and the files in it..."

"Oh... you did NOT..."

Ken gulped.

"Well... when Dee-Jay found me... and I woke up back here... the datapad... um... was not..."

Zeebo gave Ken about the worst glare that Ken had ever seen from a mooka.

"You LOST the datapad." It wasn't a question. Ken looked away.

"So... what do I do?" He asked, finally. Zeebo looked about as disgusted as possible for a creature with a beak.

"YOU made this mess- YOU go clean it up."

Ken's face fell.

"I was afraid you would say that."

* * *

Daline was sprawled over the couch, head and shoulders hanging down as she held up her book on auto repair. She wouldn't get her own speeder for a few more years, according to Baa Wilhem and Jii Dalhouise, but she could still read up on repair and mechanics- as soon as she got her pilots' license, she'd build a monster. It was in this uncomfortable position that she heard her aunt and uncle talking.

"But I thought you were working for the Church..." Baa Wilhem said, that ever-present smile in place as she continued stirring at whatever meal was in the pot- probably a stew to use up leftovers. Whatever. Baa Wilhem's cooking was still good.

"Madame Director Isard has started taking over, so the Prophets of the Dark Side no longer has any real executive power. In other words, she's my contractor, now." Jii Dalhouise said, "In any case, she also found information about the Prophets that doesn't really endear me to them, anyway."

"Information? Like what?" How did Baa Wilhem smile like that all the time? And it was always a sincere, honest, sweet smile, not a menacing, sarcastic, or evil one like Jii Dalhouise would use to intimidate people. Maybe she was just deceiving everyone...

"You remember the boy they hired me to find?" Jii Dalhouise took plates and bowls down from the cupboard and started arranging them on the placemats at the table.

'How can anyone doubt that those two are a lovey-dovey married couple?' Daline wondered, looking away from her engineering book. Jii Dalhouise was skinny, pale, and in all other aspects, pretty sickly looking, but he still pulled it off with a bizarre finesse. Baa Wilhem, on the other hand, was the ideal wife, pretty and sweet and smiling with curly hair and impeccable housekeeping skills.

Well, okay- Daline could see how people would doubt it when the two were separated, but given how Daline could swear she saw flowers and sparkles in the background when they were together, it was still hard to see how anybody could question their sappy, romantic crap.

"Oh, wasn't he your sister's son?" Baa Wilhem asked. Daline looked away from her book when she heard THAT.

"In addition to that, the grandson of the late Emperor, but yes." Daline sat up to listen.

"Oh dear. Is he alright?" Jii Dalhouise looked over in Daline's direction, so she quickly turned back to her book, pretending to read.

"I wouldn't know- I haven't found him yet. But, apparently, the reason the First Church of the Dark Side hired me to find him was because they planned on using him as the vessel for the Emperor's reincarnation." Jii Dalhouise started setting out the cups. The clunk as he set each one down seemed to echo through the entire house, "And, if that wasn't disturbing enough, what they planned to do with him AFTER the fact was... shall we say... probably not endorsed by most Imperials? The Emperor might not have cared, given what he let happen to his own son, but still... I doubt any of the Grand Moffs, Generals, or other high-ranks would have approved."

'This is probably the only household in the galaxy that would give a damn about something like that...' Daline pondered, eyes focused firmly on a sentence that she wasn't really reading.

"Oh my. So, it's a good thing you didn't find him, then..." Baa Wilhem said. Without looking, Daline knew she was still smiling, and that it was one-hundred percent sincere.

"For now. The Grand Moffs have started a coup of their own, using one of those Kommandants from the Spice Mines on Kessel, and he's said he'll find and destroy that boy, come Hell or high water." Jii Dalhouise was beginning to toss around the silverware, not caring where it landed on the table, "Madame Director Isard wants me to find him before HE does, so the coup is unsuccessful."

'Which means either I'll need to share my room with someone or we're getting a bigger house.' Daline pondered, just as Baa Wilhem voiced that.

"Should I start getting a room ready for Kendall?"

'Knew it.' Daline cheered to herself, already planning how she was going to rearrange her room to fit her brother's bed in.

"I wouldn't just yet- I still don't know where he is, and Master Retaw isn't being very helpful." Jii Dalhouise unenthusiastically started pouring juice into sippy cups for the younglings. Baa Wilhem was still smiling.

"Maybe you should just admit that you liked her when you were younger and ask politely for her help." She suggested. In response, Daline watched her uncle dramatically take Baa Wilhem into his arms and dip as though in a waltz.

"But that would ruin my image, and as I already have you and our five, beautiful children and single, adopted daughter, what would I need a childhood crush for?" So far, they hadn't noticed Daline staring at them out of her peripherals- she was rather proud of herself for being able to do so.

"Because first loves always hold a special place for everyone." Under that smile, Daline had to wonder if her aunt could really be that good and pure inside, or if she was just hiding a seething, hateful jealousy.

Jii Dalhouise sighed.

"If we ever get a Jedi Order back, the first thing I'm going to do is call the High Council and nominate you for sainthood." There was a beeping as the two straightened and Jii Dalhouise checked his comlink, then sighed again, "And now the little brat of a Kommandant is burning down the rainforest. Which means, I've got to run."

Daline had to stop herself from launching off the couch.

"In that case, here's your lunch. Have a good day, dear." Baa Wilhem put some of the stew into a box, wrapped it up and handed it to Jii Dalhouise. Daline stopped using her peripherals, really wishing she COULD concentrate on her book, now.

"Love you too." Jii Dalhouise said, brushing past Daline and pulling the book out of her hands, "And if you're going to eavesdrop and try to be discreet, at least remember not to hold your book upside-down."

"Hey!" Jii Dalhouise disappeared, taking her book with him.

"Daline, sweetie- could you help me get the younglings in here for lunch?" Baa Wilhem called as Daline gaped after her uncle. With a sigh, Daline got off the couch and slouched into the kitchen.

"I guess so." She muttered, ungraciously. Her aunt kept smiling, cheerfully.

"Thank you, hon."

'Maybe she's just really dense.' Daline wondered.

* * *

**Message sent at 835 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

So, anyone know why the brass is calling us out to play firefighters?

Hobs

**Message sent at 835 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Especially when we'll be fighting the fire with laser bolts that actually START more fires than put them out?

Wedge

**Message sent at 835 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Actually, Wedge, I think those are for the Imp crawlers that are the REASON we're out here playing firemen.

Hobs

**Message sent at 836 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

I don't care- you'd think the brass would give us, like, hoses and water or something to put the fires out.

Wedge

**Message sent at 836 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Or buckets

Hobs

**Message sent at 836 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Or water balloons

**Message sent at 836 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Or squirt guns

**Message sent at 836 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

You sissies- we're all men here! We don't NEED any of that girlie stuff to put out fires.

Janson

**Message sent at 836 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

....

Ew

Wedge

**Message sent at 836 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Gee, thanks Wes

Hobs

**Message sent at 836 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Always glad to help

Janson

**Message sent at 836 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Are you guys arguing already? It's not even nine in the morning, yet.

Luke

**Message sent at 836 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Ever think that maybe that's WHY we're already arguing?

Hobs

**Message sent at 837 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

I mean, we are getting hauled out of bed to go attack a bunch of Imperial fighters that are just randomly sitting around and setting fire to a bunch of trees, not even bothering to NOTICE us. Anyone else find that a little moronic?

Hobs

**Message sent at 837 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

The brass' official reason is because if the wildfires aren't contained, the whole forest will go up in smoke and because we've got a base here, it's our responsibility to preserve the wildlife or some other crap like that.

Wedge

**Message sent at 837 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Sounds like code for Let's bug the Rogues by giving them a completely pointless mission, just for the hell of it.

Janson

**Message sent at 837 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Actually, it's closer to code for "If the forest burns down, there goes all our foliage cover and the Imps will be able to bomb the hell out of our base while we sleep." Good try though, Janson.

Hobs

**Message sent at 837 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Oh. Crap.

Janson

**Message sent at 837 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Let's go, guys. Like, now.

Luke

**Message sent at 837 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Cool your jets, Lukie boy. We're still arguing here.

Hobs

**Message sent at 837 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

We don't have time- this is urgent.

Luke

**Message sent at 837 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

What's so urgent about this? The crawlers aren't going anywhere- they're the kind that just sit there, fire blaster bolts, and wait to be blasted apart.

Wedge

**Message sent at 837 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Dude, you've been acting weird all week. What's UP with you?

Janson

**Message sent at 838 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Nothing

Luke

**Message sent at 838 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Yeah, and after how long it took you to type 'Nothing', we're gonna believe you.

Wedge

**Message sent at 838 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Look, I'll tell you guys about it AFTER we get back. I promise.

Luke

**Message sent at 838 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

That's what you said LAST time. It's been a week and we STILL don't know.

Hobs

**Message sent at 838 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

Think of it as incentive to get the job done and survive the bombings.

Luke

**Message sent at 838 hours, Day 8, Month 5, Year 40**

That sounds like a challenge to me, boys. Let's go kick some ass.

Janson.

* * *

"This would be so much easier if we could SEE. Chewie, get the blinders off the cockpit's windows." Han called as the lights sputtered out on the control panel. Han banged his fist against the panel and it sprung back to life again. There was a growl from the communicator as Chewbacca attempted to get the _Falcon_ in working order again.

"Then try the gears. Maybe a chain broke or something." Han shouted back. There was a clank, then a creak, and then the shields over the cockpit came open, letting in the bright sunlight and glow of burning underbrush, "Okay, now get back up here." Chewbacca's head popped through the hole in the floor as he crawled back into the cockpit.

The phrase 'out of the frying pan and into the fire' seemed almost too appropriate.

"Han?" The comlink on the console sounded fuzzy and crackled as Luke's voice came through, "Han, are you there?"

Chewbacca helpfully hit the switch for Han.

"I'm here, kid- what's up?" Han called as the engines warmed up, clanging.

"The Rogues are being assigned as cover to the individual carriers and I know the _Falcon's_ turrets have been acting up lately, so I'm here as a guard escort." Luke called back, but the end of his last word cut off. Han frowned and tapped at the comm, wondering if there was more.

"Luke... Luke, you still there kid?" There was more crackling, more static, and then Luke's voice came through again.

"Yeah. Why?" Han stared at the comm a little longer. Something was just bugging him- the whole week of Luke's unusual and erratic behavior, suddenly punctuated by a return to normalcy... while it was nice that Luke wasn't out and missing in action before sunrise like he'd been the last week, it just gave Han a bad feeling.

And he was going to go with his gut on this.

"No reason- just thought I heard something on the other end." There was silence from Luke, before Han finally heard a fuzzy,

"...O-kay..." So Luke probably knew that Han was lying, but Han didn't care- his nerves were nagging at him that SOMETHING had to be up for Luke to be ACTING like this.

'Maybe the Rogues are right about him finally finding a girlfriend.' But even that didn't explain why Luke was so focused and hell bent on searching for something. It seemed more like he'd found an old pirate's map and was out looking for where the treasure was buried.

"You ready to take these guys out the way we always do?" Han asked, turning on his computer and seeing the hotspots that needed hosing light up. Luke chuckled.

"Always am." Han pressed on the accelerator and the engines roared. Well, here went nothing- the accelerator was flipped and the _Falcon_ went sweeping out of the hangar bay, a single X-Wing following on the side.

* * *

"That could have gone SO much better." Han growled as he crawled his way out of the _Falcon_. Apparently, sending a single X-wing as cover for a ship as big as the _Falcon_ had not been enough, even if it was piloted by the only known Jedi Knight alive. Han had been busy with the _Falcon's_ mechanical problems, already, and the Alliance declaring that a hose needed to be added for the emergency didn't help matters. While spraying to keep the fires under control and clear smoke for the offensive fighters to take out the crawlers, a blast of laser fire had hit the _Falcon's_ underside and sent the whole ship down.

The crawler hadn't lasted long, thanks to Luke, but at the same time, a single-man X-wing couldn't get a smuggler's ship out from the debris it was half-buried in.

"Han, are you okay?"

Luke came vaulting over the toppled tree that had fallen on top of the _Falcon_, leaving a dent where the roof had been. Han was just glad there had been enough room between the ground and the bottom of his ship to open the ramp.

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M OKAY?" Han demanded. Luke dropped down from the trunk of the tree and slid down the embankment caused by the crash. After a moment of digging, both of them managed to get to ground level and under cover from the blasterfire.

"So... any bright ideas, kid?" Han rolled under the cover of another falling tree as he heard the shouts of stormtroopers in the distance- a lot of which sounded like screams, which probably meant they were being roasted alive in the fires THEY'D lit- and cannons being fired, "I was supposed to be gone by now, back to my old smuggling days, and you guys AIN'T paying me enough to stay here."

"Han, this is sad and everything, but I'd value my life over my lifestyle right about now." Luke pointed out, unclipping his lightsaber as Han pulled out his blaster.

"I REALLY could care less right now." Han snapped back, leveling and firing at a line of troops who were following their loud argument.

"Just don't shoot one of our own." Oh, like Han was going to care.

"I'll shoot what I see. And all I see are Imps." Seriously, they just kept coming in swarms, like ants on the march for food. Where did the Empire GET all these troopers? And where did they keep coming from. Even as Han stayed down and kept firing, there was one that he just kept missing.

":Cub, I wouldn't shoot if I were you- that one has a captive.:" Chewbacca put in, his huge paw covering Han's blaster. Han had to blink for a moment, but realized that Chewie was right- the stormtrooper he was trying to shoot at had a person over his shoulder, kicking and flailing... and it was a little TALL for a stormtrooper... and there wasn't any weapon pack... or... a helmet...

"I don't even think that's a stormtrooper." Han finally muttered back, lowering his blaster as the thing- it sure didn't look human- swiveled around and raised one arm, a blaster cannon popping out.

'Droid, then.'

"Hey, you!" Han shouted as the droid stepped closer, blaster cannon still extended from its arm, "Put that guy down and don't shoot."

Han expected the droid to disobey. He expected the droid to continue walking forward with it's blaster still raised. He even would have expected the thing to start firing. What Han DIDN'T expect was for the droid to lower it's blaster and the person over its shoulder. The former captive tumbled to the ground with a thud and an 'Ow' that sounded too high pitched to be a man's.

"Commander Skywalker and Captain Solo, my apologies." The droid said. Han frowned, then looked over to Luke.

"You know this thing?" He asked. Luke shrugged while Chewbacca growled, apparently not too pleased about being ignored.

"Not really, but apparently he knows us." Luke replied. The captive that the droid had dropped looked up and Han saw a boyish face with gray eyes that immediately split into a grin.

"Hi, Commander Skywalker!" He said. Han looked over at Luke again, then back to the grinning face that was waving at them.

"Ken!" Luke shouted back, hurdling over the tree and reaching the droid and its 'captive' in a few seconds. Han continued to stare, his brain starting to function on its own in putting the pieces together.

"This is the second time that I've come to the surface and I see you, AGAIN! Either I am the luckiest kid in the galaxy, or this is fate!" Ken stumbled to his feet, face glowing like he was plugged into a thousand-watt circuit. And, of course, the line about luck sure got Han's attention.

"You might be lucky, kiddo, but watch your bragging." Han put in. Ken's head snapped around and his eyes grew wide.

"You... YOU are Captain Solo!" He said, mouth hanging open like his teeth were being examined.

"And who're you, Fish boy?" Ken's jaw snapped shut with an audible click from his teeth, but the grin didn't budge.

"My name is Ken. I am sorry- this is just such an honor, I never thought I would ever meet you. I have read a lot about you." All of this was rattled off in a matter of seconds that made Han wonder if either his hearing was off, or if this kid just had some sort of jaw disease.

"Well, don't believe all of it- Greedo shot first." Han muttered. The line normally was good for gauging a person's sense of humor- some would laugh, others would roll their eyes- but all it made Ken do was tilt his head and blink.

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

The conversation was halted by the shriek of explosions and cannons firing. The droid grabbed Ken by the scruff of his neck and started to drag him away. When Luke started to follow, Han and Chewbacca deemed it a wise decision to do the same, or else stay here to be incinerated.

"So, is this the girlfriend that Wes and Hobs were bugging you about?" Han muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he caught up with Luke. Luke shot him a disgusted expression, but did reply.

"Well... I guess... except for the girlfriend part..."

"Right." Han said, quickening his pace and hoping that wherever they were going had a hose to put out the fire if the _Falcon_ went up in smoke.

A/N: I don't care if Johnny Cash was the original singer- Social Distortion did 'Ring of Fire' better.

Thank you for waiting. I WILL get these next few chapters done a lot sooner. It will also help if AT&T doesn't screw up my internet again.


	14. Part II: Chapter 4

PRINCE

By Sapadu

A/N: Wow... This really IS annoying, isn't it? Honestly, I'm still having Internet troubles. But I will show slightly more commitment to this than I have before- I'll get a chapter done each month, posted at least 24-hours after completion. If any of this is untrue... may I be hit by a giant log.

*smashes into a tree* ...Don't... say... anything.

Chapter 4: Turn Over

If it could have been surgically possible, Ken would have had a second heart implanted- one to pump all his blood to where he needed it, and the other to thump away like a rabbit having a seizure, as his only heart was currently doing.

Meeting Luke Skywalker once, on his first trip to Topworld- that was one thing. It could have been chance, or coincidence, or that once in a lifetime miracle that every kid dreamed of. But... a second time, on his second trip to Topworld, even when Ken had just been here to find a lost datapad... That COULDN'T be coincidence. In fact, it couldn't be chance, or a miracle, or a joke. There was only one word that was running through Ken's head at the moment.

Fate. That's all this COULD be.

This wouldn't have been nearly as comical as it was, if it weren't for the fact that Ken was still being half-dragged by the back of his neck by Dee-Jay. Apparently, someone had tipped the old droid off about Ken disappearing a second time to find the datapad he'd dropped- and how Dee-Jay had known that it was a datapad that Ken was looking for, Ken would never know, since he'd lost them before and Dee-Jay and HC hadn't bothered, then.

"So... he's from WHERE, again?" Not only had he met Luke Skywalker again, he'd also met THE Han Solo AND Chewbacca. That was beyond fate, that had to be... like, a sign or something. Currently, Han Solo was demanding some answers out of Dee-Jay and apparently not receiving satisfactory ones, as he kept repeating his questions.

"The place I am taking this boy back to is the Lost City of the Jedi- as I said before, you are welcome if you come in peace- but for the moment, time is of the essence." Dee-Jay crashed through the foliage without a care for any of the branches that smacked Ken in the face or the unbearable heat coming from the fires that burned in every which direction.

"Do not worry- I can show them around and explain everything since..." Ken was abruptly cut off as Dee-Jay let a particularly prickly branch snap right into Ken's forehead.

"You are in enough trouble as it is, young man." Was his response. Ken didn't say anything to that- he was busy trying to get the prickles out of his eyebrows.

Still, he mused as Dee-Jay dragged him back inside the elevator and Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, and Chewbacca crammed in after them, things could have been a lot worse for one day.

* * *

'There is NO WAY this could get any worse.' Mehgan Retaw thought to herself as she watched the forest smolder. Already, she'd packed her few things and gotten out of her cave, but it still wasn't going to be any easier finding a new one. Then, there was the fact that she didn't know what this fire was for- if it was a bounty hunter or some other scum who'd heard about the price on ex-Jedi's heads trying to smoke her out, or if it was some new ploy by Dalhouise and his creepy employers to find Kendal.

If it was her, she could just run off, find a new hideout, and that was that. But if someone was trying to find Kendal...

"_We can ressurrect that student of yours. With the technique the Emperor has developed."_

To be honest, she wasn't sure if she WANTED to keep him hidden, anymore. On one hand, Kendalina's son. On the other, Kendalina herself. On the other hand, Kendalina had Triclops if she came back. On the other hand, Mehgan would have both Kendalina and the old Triclops back. On the other hand...

Mehgan was up to her fifth hand by now and it was just giving her a headache. This really couldn't get any worse.

"It's been too long, Master Retaw." Ah, and here, she stood corrected.

Mehgan spun to see, emerging out of the smoke were seven figures that Mehgan hadn't seen in two whole years.

"From a certain point of view." She retorted, "And I am SO not in the mood to deal with you today."

Kadann smirked at her, ignoring the disdain in her glare and the smoldering heat of the fires around them. Instead, he lifted a hand out, as though to offer her help stepping over a puddle.

"Aw, and here we'd come all this way because we were worried about you!" Mocked Asmod on Kadann's far left. Mehgnan's hand went down to saber-ready position. Kadann held up his other hand.

"Now, now- there's no need for that. We can make this visit brief." Kadann was smiling, creepy as ever, but knowing he had the upper hand. Mehgan refrained from saying that she had another way to, pardon the pun, cut the visit short- she still wasn't sure what these men could do, but they obviously knew a great deal about her abilities.

"The offer we made you last time." Put in Jedgar, immediately on Kadann's right, "Have you given it much consideration?" Mehgan kept scowling.

"Consideration? Plenty. Decided? Not nearly enough." She snarled.

Kadann continued to smile.

"None of us thought so." He agreed, "That's precisely why we came down to discuss it with you." Even if his tone was light and friendly, Mehgan could hear the menace behind the word 'discuss'.

"I do not need persuading, thank you." Her voice felt icy as it came out of her mouth, but she knew it wouldn't keep them at bay- she knew what they were after. They were here for Kendal, and they weren't going to stop until they walked away at least with some of the information they wanted. And after they'd gotten it out of her, it was more than likely they'd kill her.

But still...

"I didn't say 'persuade'. I said 'discuss'." Kadann repeated, his sneer growing, "But... if you would rather have one of us 'persuade' you- forcibly, that is- that is what we brought Jedgar along for."

"And you call yourselves men." Mehgan retorted, "You're not even worthy of being scum."

Kadann heaved a sigh that Mehgan knew was at least sixty percent insincere.

"So, I suppose this may take a little longer than we anticipated."

The next moment, Mehgan saw a lightsaber drop into Jedgar's hand. Her's did the same and not a second later, both were snapped on as Jedgar came flying through the air towards her. Mehgan raised her lightsaber, just barely in time to block the blow- Jedgar's slice came down hard against her saber, almost forcefully enough to cause Mehgan to cut herself with her own blade. It also didn't help that this fiend was at least eight centimeters taller than her.

Still, Mehgan ducked and parried, pushing herself around in a circle before she heard another snap-hiss. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Noma charging at her with a lightsaber of his own. Mehgan didn't have a chance to think- she disengaged and jumped, landing on a tree branch just in time to see the two Sith collide, lightsabers just barely catching each other. It was brief, though, as Mehgan saw Noma retaliate by pressing his hand to the ground. Mehgan watched with a frown as she saw his arm sink into the soil, all the way up to his elbow, before the smell of smoke reached her nostrils. The tree she had perched in was starting to burn- not from the other forest fires, but as though something had set fire to it's roots and it was being burned from below.

Mehgan made her leap, just as the branch she'd been on fell off as the flames reached the foliage. As she descended to the ground, Mehgan heard a third snap-hiss. This time, she could feel it coming at her from behind and she blocked Asmod's saber with ease. It was short-lived- as their sabers remained locked, Mehgan saw that his grip and force were deliberately loose as Asmod actually took a hand off his saber and reached for her, fingers running over her face. Mehgan's leg came up to squarely kick Asmod in his solar plexus, sending him flying. Still, her kick must not have had enough force, as Asmod came down just a few meters away. Mehgan wasn't surprised- she felt dizzy and drained for some reason, but regained her bearings just in time to spin and bat away the sabers of Jedgar and Noma at the same time.

Even as she remained in fighting stance, Mehgan could feel the other four, circling and gathering around. Even if she did fight these three off, she wouldn't be able to run- they had her surrounded. Jedgar came at her again, this time with a series of attacks that swooped so broadly and messily that Mehgan simply needed to dodge. One attack, she had to let herself fall to the ground just to get back up, and that was when she noticed a thin line of shadow sneaking towards her, despite the fact that there was nothing making it.

Mehgan glanced towards Barnaby, whom, instead of a lightsaber, was simply crouched on the ground with his hands folded together. Mehgan jumped out of the way, dodging Jedgar and going straight into Noma's attack. Her saber went up and blocked his hand, but all that did was set her lightsaber on fire. She dropped it and jumped back.

"Hey, girlie- quit movin' around!" Mehgan heard Barnaby call, "This doesn't have to be that difficult."

One of the trees fell over with a crash as the fires started to reach the clearing. Mehgan threw off her cloak and beat out as much as she could before she picked the fallen tree up and swiped away the charging Asmod and Jedgar. The second she moved to drop the tree, however, Mehgan felt her entire body freeze. The only thing she could move were her eyes, and just enough to see that the streak of shadow on the ground had connected with the shadow of the tree she was still holding.

"Thank you." Barnaby called, again. Meghan felt her jaw move to match the words, but no sound came out. Not a second later, a large arm crossed over her neck, a second one taking both her wrists hostage as Gornash's voice spoke into her ear.

"Nothing personal, but this is our job." He apologized, before Mehgan felt the paralysis on her drop. It wasn't needed, anyway- she almost felt like all of her strength was being sucked out of her through a straw.

"Well, now that you seem more willing to cooperate, Master Retaw, perhaps we can have our discussion, now." Kadann spoke lightly, almost friendly, but it made Mehgan even sicker.

And even moreso because she knew there was no way out of this.

* * *

Luke had never thought he'd see something like this before- an entire city that was, from top to bottom, made of droids. Tall droids, short droids, droids shaped like humans, droids with almost no resemblance to living creatures at all, even several buildings looked like droids. The entire city was bathed in an off-green tinted light that made himself, Han, Chewie, and Ken look like they glowed from the tint their skin gave off.

And Luke could certainly see why this city was a wealth of information. Even inside buildings that held no obvious information about Jedi Lore, Luke could feel a kind of familiarity ebbing off of the walls- something that felt like he could have called them home in a different place or time. It almost gave the impression of being a museum, except it was obviously anything but that.

It also made Luke's stomach lurch to think that, if the Death Star hadn't been destroyed in the Battle of Yavin, all of this would have been obliterated, along with the Alliance. It was kind of humbling to think that he'd saved more than he'd even realized at the time.

"I never would have guessed this was all just beneath the surface of the moon- it seems like something you just can't fit down here." Luke couldn't help but be amazed- it was far too spectacular.

"Not even a majority of the Jedi Order was aware of the Lost City of the Jedi's existance- it is said that only select members of the High Jedi Council were ever told of the Lost City's location, for only the greatest of Masters could utilize the knowledge contained in the records preserved in the libraries over the centuries." Luke looked over his shoulder at Ken, all his amazement disappating as he saw the boy reading off of a datapad, "...At least, that is what this file reads."

"Ain't there a word for when you write a report on yourself and how many people know about you? Some reason, I'm getting the picture of a giant mirror." Han muttered to Luke. Luke kept his mouth shut, but couldn't help but think the same thing. Whether Ken had been affected by Han's words or not, Luke couldn't tell, because the kid just kept talking.

"Technically, there are multiple libraries- that one over there is a building that keeps strict history records from at least three-hundred different civilizations, so that is why it takes up so much space compared to the others. Then, this building over here is the natural sciences place- you know, physics, chemistry, and biology- so records of species and evolution would be fouund in there. Right next to my dome house, there is a library devoted to techincal sciences, and on the other side, that building is the metal shop where broken droids and equipment go when they need repair." Ken paused for breath, "Then, there is a mathematics library, and a culture library, and a philosophy library, and a library for the arts, and of course the Jedi library- that one is the biggest out of all of the libraries, but it is also the one with the coolest information. You could seriously spend years in there and still only just scratch the surface of every thing inside there."

If Ken had had Luke's attention before, it was nothing to now.

"Which building is that?" He asked, but even as Ken opened his mouth, Dee-Jay clamped a hand down on Ken's shoulder, dragging him off in the proper direction.

"As I recall, there was something of a pressing urgency for the two of you regarding the fires above ground. If you will follow me, our resources will be open for your use."

'What resources would put out an entire forest fire?' Was Luke's first thought- on just knee-jerk response, it seemed reasonable, but after he thought about it for a moment, he remembered thinking the same thing when his X-Wing was stuck in the Dagobah swamp.

So THIS was the wealth of information Obi-Wan had been referring to.

* * *

"_Hey, Yoda, you old geezer, come out and say hi!" Kao-Lin glared at the blatant disrespect her master was showing for Master Yoda at the moment, but could do nothing- Master Orewahime had sealed her vocal chords off, and Kao-Lin's ears were still sore from being boxed a few days ago. So what? It wasn't her fault- Master Orewahime should know better than to try and run from the Chancellor, than to defy the government like that._

_Master Yoda's hut was silent._

"_I KNOW you're in there!" Master Orewahime called, "I can hear you caring."_

_A light came on in the window. The next moment, Master Yoda came hobbling out the door on his cane, looking thoroughly displeased at being woken up._

"_A time for rest this is, Padawan Orewahime." He scolded. Master Orewahime scoffed as she grabbed Kao-Lin by the back of her neck and dragged her out of the ship and towards Master Yoda's hut._

"_You'll get plenty of rest when you're dead. Life is for doin' shit." Without being invited, Master Orewahime pulled Kao-Lin through the door and made herself at home, "No need to get up- I know my way around."_

_Kao-Lin saw Master Yoda cast her a curious glance before he looked back at Master Orewahime with a raised eyebrow. Master Orewahime followed his gaze from Kao-Lin to herself._

"_The little baby isn't happy that Mommy won the custody battle- I'm grounding her from phone privledges until I can trust her not to try and call Daddy to come and take her away." Master Orewahime explained, even as she stretched her legs out and relaxed as best she could inside Master Yoda's cramped house._

_Master Yoda merely shook his head, as though resigned to Master Orewahime's ways of handling matters._

"_Here for a reason, you are." He finally mentioned. Master Orewahime folded her legs up again and leaned back, taking in a breath as though to say 'Glad you asked'._

"_About Skywalker." Kao-Lin glared at her Master's lack of manners, though she couldn't decide if it was more for barging into Master Yoda's house and just demanding favors or how she was referring to Master Skywalker, "I'm going to assume there was a reason for him to suddenly flip out and decide that the entire Jedi Order, from the High Council to little younglings, deserving to die, right?"_

_Master Yoda's ears lowered and his grim expression grew grimmer. But that could have also been attributed to a lack of sleep._

"_That means, there was another variable in his life that almost nobody knew about- except for you, Master Kenobi, and a few select others who I can't think of at the moment. It's also curious to know that, for about a year before Skywalker went psycho, a pretty young lady with high standing in the Senate started wearing really loose, flared-out dresses with really high waists and a lot of padding, making her look roughly equivalent to the weight of an obese ronto. The only things that a woman wants to hide when she dresses like that are her fat ass and sagging tits- unlikely, since she was still young enough to be really, really pretty- or the fact that she's pregnant."_

_Master Yoda let out a sigh through his nose. Master Orewahime started to smile, though there was no real happiness it it._

"_It's not a coincidence." She finally declared, triumphantly, "Which means there's a little Skywalker brat running around out there. Somewhere."_

_Master Yoda went puttering around his kitchen, apparently deciding that if he was going to have company, he should be awake for it._

"_A point to this, there was." He finally reminded her, somewhat snappishly for Master Yoda. Master Orewahime took in a deep breath before she launched into her demands._

"_Since we can assume that any Skywalker spawn would be... of the Jedi persuasion... we can also assume that he'll become interested in the same field of study- since, y'know, all little boys wanna grow up and be their dads someday. So... when that happens and this little hell child comes banging on your door, maybe it would be smart to... NOT mention some things about Jedi secrets?"_

_Kao-Lin knew it- Master Orewahime had something in mind that she wanted Master Yoda to keep secret. Question was, what?_

"_A specific secret, you mean." Master Yoda confirmed, hobbling around with his tea. Master Orewahime shrugged, apparently not caring that Master Yoda wasn't offering her any._

"_Well... I did find an interesting little treasure buried on Yavin Four... unless, of course, a whole damn underground city of droids and lore about the entire universe as we know it is, like, really a pirates treasure, in which case I probably get to keep it all to myself and rename this old hunk of junk the 'Jolly Roger'..." Master Orewahime trailed off as Master Yoda glared at her over his mug._

"_A reason." It was a demand. Kao-Lin knew it and she knew that Master Orewahime knew it. Master Orewahime blew air out of the corners of her mouth, eyes raised to the ceiling as she contemplated an answer._

"_Because I asked you nicely?" She finally guessed. Master Yoda turned his back on her._

"_How about because, if you told anybody about that place and that person you told one day went really, really bad, it would pretty much guarantee the complete and total extinction of the Jedi?" Master Yoda huffed. Kao-Lin blinked- she'd kind of guessed Master Orewahime's first idea probably wouldn't win him over, but the second one had seemed reasonable._

"_Not like you, to think that way." Master Yoda scolded._

_Kao-Lin blinked. Master Orewahime did the same._

"_So, my reasons aren't good enough." She concluded. Master Yoda gave her a Look. Master Orewahime lowered her chin to her breastbone, folding her arms over her chest as she thought for a moment._

"_Well, okay- There's something very specific I want to protect and be kept safe... Something that I'd prefer had a chance to be kept out of reach of any grubby little mitts of any Skywalker spawn that might, potentially, bring... this thing... harm..."_

"_Why." Master Yoda hadn't asked a question through the whole conversation. This was no different, and an equally powerful reminder of Master Orewahime's place. Kao-Lin watched her master's face, just waiting for the look of realization._

_Master Orewahime locked her gaze with Master Yoda's for a long moment before she smiled- actually goddamned smiled._

"_Because that's my way of the Jedi."

* * *

_

Apparently, Luke had been right to second guess himself- there were records of Force-techniques that could have done, quite literally, anything imaginable. While none of them were quite what he or Han needed- that is, none of them said anything about extinguishing acres of flaming rainforest or, if that could not be done, restoring whatever damage was done to the ecosystem- it was still rather humbling to look at all this information and realize he was nowhere near being as great a Jedi as any of his teachers. Han, Luke suspected, was searching more out of interest to save his own ship above all else, but Luke was a little swept up by the sheer mass of information to care about motives anymore. Frankly, Luke couldn't talk- he was looking for information that could save any of the Rogue Squadron from going down in flames.

"Luke, it has a record of some power that makes your sneezes freeze in midair- who comes up with something like THAT?" Han muttered as he put the file back in its place. Luke didn't respond as he put back his file- while it had been incredible that a former Jedi Master had once stopped an earthquake from destroying an entire city, it wasn't quite relevant to their search.

"I think it would be cool." Ken piped up, looking away from whatever file he'd been scanning- the old droid called Dee-Jay had set the boy on the task of helping Han and Luke search for a useful technique or other such information. Whether it had been meant as a punishment or not was dubious, since Ken seemed to be rather enjoying his job.

"Are you finding anything about Force-conjuring up a giant hose, kid?" Han asked. Ken blinked, rather owlishly.

"No. I would remember reading about a Force power like that- I am pretty sure it does not exist..." Ken started, but Han turned his back.

"Then, stop bumpin' yer gums." Han plucked another file off the shelf, briefly scanning the contents on it's display screen before putting it back and choosing another. In undeflated response, Ken prodded Luke's arm with another file.

"I think that is the one- when I was little, I read about a Force power that controls the weather, and since you said water, I thought..." Luke had to force himself not to snatch it out of Ken's hands and flip on the display screen. Indeed, the last time anyone had picked this file up, they had left the print in large, easy to read, boldface type. This only made it easier for Luke to find exactly which section he needed and flip to it, under a chapter title headed 'Alter Environment'.

_**Alter Environment** was a Force-power that involved various techniques that allowed the user to manipulate nature, enabling the creation of phenomena such as Force whirlwinds or fog that could be used to attack or to shield the user from opponents._

_Alter Environment could also be used to manipulate temperatures, creating freezing sub-zero temperatures in seconds, or blistering heat that could burn. Alter Environment could also be used to create electrical discharges over broad expanses of ground, vacate areas of air, or increase the pressure of the air to burst eardrums. It could even be used to create mini earth quakes and form holes, or even to gather the moisture in the air and create floods. Alter Environment could also easily influence already existing natural occurrences, for example, a thunderstorm could be manipulated to strike an object with lightning, or rain clouds to start up torrential rains, or even to hail, windswept seas could be coaxed to rear up in massive waves, and Whirlpools._

Luke had to admit- given that the boy had lived down here for twelve years and most likely already read most of these files was proving to be a huge asset. This was exactly what he was looking for- something along the lines of a monsoon or typhoon would probably be the most effective in extinguishing the fires, and if the winds could be kept under control, the pilots who were still out there would still be able to keep control of their ships enough to land until visibility cleared up.

Luke kept reading.

_This power utilized the innate Force power, or Life force in the object being manipulated, instead of the Force powers of the manipulator. In other words, when a Jedi used this power, he would use a small amount of his own power, to manipulate the innate power already inside, say, lightning or water for example. This leads to large effects like killer waves and lightning storms being started with hardly little effort and little fatigue, and depending on the amount of energy expended, little concentration._

That was good- Luke didn't have that much energy left to expend after the dogfight above ground and the subsequent running after Dee-Jay hoping to find safety had been draining, to say the least.

_The greater a beings knowledge in physics would result in more control, and a larger range of ways Alter Environment could be used, as well as improve the time it took to enact. However, a being would need to monitor the effects, to keep them from spreading to disastrous consequences._

That was not so good- Luke understood physics well enough to pilot, but not nearly enough that he would be able to control a windstorm. The fact that he was underground, where it was essentially impossible to monitor the effects of the weather on the surface, also complicated things.

As if reading Luke's thoughts, Ken tugged on Luke's sleeve.

"There are security holocams on the surface and a whole room of projectors so the droids can monitor and be sure nothing is coming close to the entrance- You could use those, if you needed." Luke had to blink for a moment to realize what Ken was referring to, but wasn't about to turn his nose up at the offer.

'He really has read all of these files, hasn't he?'

* * *

"I'm still a little curious why you can't just answer us, Master Retaw. It would be so much easier on everyone." The way he spoke, Kadann didn't really give the impression that he wanted Mehgan to answer his questions, in fact, he seemed to be rather enjoying watching Mehgan get the ever-loving shit beat out of her for refusing to answer.

"Is... that... the best... you've got?" She panted, all pretenses of being tough utterly shattered at this point but Mehgan could still be stubborn and she could still bluff. Kadann heaved a faked sigh.

"Master Retaw, if you have breath to snarl at us like that, why can't you use it for more useful purposes, especially when your lungs can only take in so much air at once, now? Come, be more economical."

'Economical.' Mehgan thought. Already, Noma had stabbed her with poison coated needles all over her shoulders, arms, back, neck, and head, then forced her to swallow bitter, chalky antidote pills. If that hadn't been enough, their next move had been to have Tilus jab at her muscles with his fingers and pry them apart through her skin, and when that had failed as a persuasion method, Jedgar had just been given free reign to throw punches and kicks. All the while, Barnaby had kept her completely at bay with his bizarre shadow- however he was doing it.

All of this lead to Mehgan being crumpled against the roots of a tree, barely getting enough oxygen as the smoke grew thicker in the air and ribs started to grow weary of breathing. She could feel bruises growing virtually everywhere on her body and she was fairly certain she would be coughing up blood if she tried to stand.

Kadann raised an eyebrow at her, finally starting to smirk again.

"Did you need to be reminded? This isn't a one-way trade. There really is a way to bring back that apprentice of yours." Mehgan's arms were sore and aching- if she could have moved them, she would have covered her ears, "Just remember- it's for HER."

Mehgan squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as possible. This was a mistake- Kadann's voice became almost gleeful. He knew he'd gotten to her.

"Just think- you would have your beloved apprentice back. She could continue on her path to her dreams... wasn't she the one who bragged about becoming the Greatest Jedi who Ever Lived? She could actually reach it, now. And the other one- that boy, his Excellency's Royal Son... they could start their lives all over again, somwhere far away, and you could even go with them."

She knew. She knew that. Give them Kendal, they give her Kendalina. It was too good to be true, but even worse was how true it was, and how much they knew that she knew. How much she wanted it. Just their child- just their one child, and who knew? Maybe Kendalina and Triclops could have even more children, if this one little, insignificant boy was sacrificed and Kendalina was brought back.

"We would even be willing to surrender him- we take the boy, give you those two back, you three go far away and never hear from any of us again. Or what if she came back and couldn't care less for her old mate- what if it was YOU she only had eyes for? It could be just like long ago, when you first found her- just the two of you, Master and Apprentice, Mother and Daughter, if you wanted... or possibly even more."

Thinking about it, that might not have been quite so much wishful thinking- Mehgan was fairly certain that, if Triclops hadn't been around, Kendalina wouldn't have had an eye for the male species, at all. Even with Triclops, it didn't really count, since he'd been even more feminine than either herself or Kendalina. The possibility was very real, and Mehgan wouldn't deny it, nor would she deny that she was so very, very tempted to give in.

"See reason- why don't you just give us the coordinates we're looking for?" Kadann pressed. Mehgan felt her face screw itself up into a grimace.

"I don't KNOW!" And she didn't. With everything that was spread out like that in front of her, she didn't know why she couldn't. It was like she wanted to say, but the mechanism inside her that would have given out the location just wouldn't work. She wanted Kendalina back, Triclops would want Kendalina back, these people wanted Kendal and would be more than willing to put everything right again... what was stopping her?

"I don't know why..." Mehgan repeated. She couldn't think, her ribs hurt, her bones ached, everything was spinning around in her head and just wouldn't sort out, no matter how she tried to make sense of it all.

"I just want... my two little younglings back." And why was she even talking anymore? It wasn't going to help her, in fact, it would just give them ammunition to use against her. But it was true enough, "I just want to hold them again, see their smiles, hear them laughing..." She didn't think she was crying, but what did she know- she couldn't even think straight, "...I just wanted a chance to say goodbye."

There was silence. Mehgan could hear the crash of trees falling over as they burned in the distance and could almost feel their pain.

"There don't have to be goodbyes." Came Kadann's insidious voice through her ears.

Mehgan didn't have a reply to that. There was something hollow inside her that was waiting for something to fill it- that little doubt why she couldn't.

A light breeze wafted between the trees. Mehgan felt it tug on her hair, almost like little fingers going through it but not quite pulling. There was the sound of flames flaring higher and blades of grass rustling as the wind grew stronger.

Mehgan's eyes opened. Her head was tilted back so that all she could see was the canopy of the forest and a tiny shred of blue sky between the branches. And suddenly, she knew why she couldn't do it.

'You're angry with me, aren't you?' She thought, a small smile creeping onto her face, '...Kendalina...'

As though in response, the wind picked up, then died down again. Mehgan could have sworn she'd heard a huff in the wind, like Kendalina had always done when she had been agitated by something.

Apparently, Kadann took her smile as a good sign. Which, she supposed, it was, technically.

"So... you've come to your decision, I see." He said, slowly. Mehgan's gaze fell down to meet Kadann's. A second later, she swung her arm up and punched him squarely in the nose, sending him flying.

"GET OUTTA MY FACE!" She shouted. If only for the look on all the other Prophet's faces, it was worth it. They all were obviously terrified of her, something she could tell only increased as she stood up, ignoring how much her muscles hurt or the taste of blood in her mouth when she coughed.

"I told you guys this was gonna be a pain." Barnaby called. Mehgan smirked a little, herself.

"Damn right about that." She put in, steadying herself against the tree, "I'm going to learn you little brats what it means to mess with the teacher of the Greatest Jedi who Ever Lived."

* * *

"Luke... think you might wanna change what you're doing." Han called. Luke had his eyes closed as he meditated, trying to concentrate, so the task of watching the monitors had fallen to Han, "You're just making the wind howl. Needs more water."

Not what Luke really needed to hear when he was trying to make it rain, but he was trying his hardest. Part of the problem was that he couldn't really imagine a torrential downpour- he'd seen rain before, but the image of a storm just didn't come to his mind anywhere near as easily as a blustery sandstorm.

"I remember reading once that some kinds of Force powers depend on what kind of element bias you naturally have- like a fiery personality would be better for offensive powers, or something like that. Maybe that is what this is." Ken put in, yet again ruining Luke's concentration.

"Kid, you think you could put a sock in it?" Han asked. Luke tried to ignore them, but his concentration was now very disturbed by a new doubt. It might not have been strict Jedi lore, but it was something of a challenge to imagine himself as a watery kind of person- closer to rocks and wind was the image he got when he thought about himself.

So, if he couldn't summon a rainstorm... what COULD he do?

* * *

First priority was to at least slow the internal bleeding. Mehgan knew she could do that. The trouble was that she'd never done it while under fire, particularly not while she was outnumbered. She needed something to keep them at bay, especially since Jedgar had already regained his bearings and was charging her down.

On instinct, Mehgan threw a punch to the ground. With a crash and a rumble like an earthquake, the entire forest floor shattered, leaving a giant, rocky crater with Mehgan at the epicenter. It would stop any chance of a direct attack, so that would do for a few seconds. Mehgan began focusing on her injuries, bringing the more serious ones to a stop. The pain faded, but Mehgan kept focusing- for all she knew, it was just the endorphins kicking in.

"You have to do better than that to keep us away!" Taunted Noma as he came over one of the boulders the same time as Jedgar closed in from behind. Mehgan remained still, smirking as they drew closer. Just as both came within striking range, Meghan arms shot out as she spun, her elbow going into Noma's face and her fist catching Jedgar in the midsection, both blows sending them into the air.

"Don't be hard on a girl just for playing hard-to-get." She sneered back, taking a leap into the air, herself.

Injuries were healed. Next priority was the fire. This, Mehgan knew she could do without breaking her concentration on these seven. Mehgan folded her hands and concentrated, and not a second later, she heard the rumbling of thunder as the clouds overhead darkened and became heavy with rain.

The first few drops started to fall as Mehgan felt movement drawing closer to her side. Without even opening her eyes, she sent a kick out perfectly aimed to knock Asmod's saber from his hands and send him tumbling down into the crater. Noma came back from wherever Mehgan had sent him flying off to, just for her to pick up one of the shattered boulders she'd created with her punch and send it hurling towards him like a discus. It connected with perfect accuracy, causing Noma to go flipping over through the air.

The rain started to become heavier, turning from a drizzle into a downpour and turning the dirt into mud.

'Perfect.' Mehgan grinned, picking up another rock and this time rolling it along the ground with all the momentum of an out-of-control speeder. It outright flattened Jedgar into the mud before being smashed by another rolling object. As the spinning stopped, Mehgan saw Tilus stagger to his feet again, looking significantly dizzy.

"...Swear ta ass... 'M gonna kick yer God..." He slurred before falling over. Mehgan almost felt sorry for him, but she didn't have time for that- she had an offensive to push. She could smell the heavy scent of smoke that only came from extinguished fires, and the earthy smell of mud and grass mixing together.

"Hey, since there's no shadows for me to really work with here, can I just go home?" She could hear Barnaby call over the thunder of rain. She ignored it in favor of pushing the attack. Her energy focused, she pulled water from the puddles it formed, pulling it towards her like a magnet attracted paper clips. She could feel the presences of the three offensive Prophets moving, circling around her and regrouping for a new attack. Kadann hadn't yet used any offensive measures- Mehgan assumed it was either he didn't want to dirty his hands or that he didn't have any real skills that were useful in battle- and the other three had settled before her, none making any sort of move to attack.

Their teamwork, which had brought her to her knees not just a few minutes ago, was now scattered.

It didn't matter- Mehgan could feel the other three closing in, but she waited until just the right moment, before she unleashed the utter tidal wave she had literally been sitting on. All seven were swept away, as though Mehgan had just broken the wall of a dam and let out an entire reservoir. Without wasting a second, Mehgan lept right into the flood she'd let loose, running through it as though it were solid ground and air and prepared to take them apart, one at a time.

The first was Asmod. If she could use their last encounter as a measure, he had the ability to drain a person's energy by touch. It was either that, or make them feel nauseous enough to break concentration, but either way, direct contact was out. Mehgan dealt with it by using one of the fallen trees her tide had swept away and bringing it down over Asmod's head with a crunch.

Next was Jedgar, who apparently had unlimited strength. It was good for Mehgan, therefore, that she had the same kind of strength without needing to draw on the Force. Jedgar had his hands up and caught Mehgan's punches, but wasn't prepared for the kick Mehgan planted into his stomach and groin with both her feet. Jedgar's body jackknifed in a way that was telltale of vital organs being hit and injured. The force of Mehgan's blow threw him clear out of the water altogether and into a boulder, before Mehgan realized that the water level was going down.

In a panic, she pushed herself out and onto solid ground again as the entire flood she'd conjured was sucked up by Tilus through a second mouth he had hidden under the flab of his chin. Mehgan moved back into attack formation as Noma spat out a mouthful of water and started to shout at her.

"YOU FUCKING, GODAMNED JEDI BITCH! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU FUCKING THINK YOU WERE DOING- THAT SHIT WAS FUCKING COLD! I'M FUCKING GONNA PULL YOUR FUCKING ARMS THE FUCK OFF, AND THEN FUCKING KICK YOUR ASS ALL THE FUCK THE WAY TO HELL!" Mehgan readied herself for whatever he was planning- his lightsaber was out but not yet ignited, and Noma apparently still had breath to scream at her.

"You're not gonna set her on fire, dude- she's even more soaked than we are." Barnaby called. Mehgan could see him flopping down on his backside, stretching, and for the most part, relaxing as best he could with rain still pelting down on him. Noma ignored Barnaby, igniting his lightsaber and charging at Mehgan, still throwing out the occasional 'Fuck you'.

Mehgan lifted her arms in attack position. Noma took a leap and brought his saber down, just in time for Mehgan to start her maneuver. She started to spin and weave her arms around, knocking his lightsaber away with the first blow and then moving on to push the offensive, slicing through Noma with her hands. Strikes two, three, and four broke Noma's arms and legs, before the fifth blow sliced through his neck and disconnected his flesh altogether, decapitating the foul-mouthed little menace and sending his head flying.

Mehgan landed on her feet, only to hear Kadann snickering.

"Marvelous." And clapping. She shot him a look through her peripherals, "Spectacular. Truly a performance worthy of the last living apprentice of the renowned Master Mace Windu. And such an honor for us to be able to see this rendition of his famous technique- the Vaapad- in person." Mehgan scowled, knowing that he was mocking her- a thought that was confirmed as Kadann sneered.

"But..." He lifted a finger as though to scold her, "Even if he were alive today, not even your master could defeat any of us."

Mehgan heard a crash and her head swiveled to see Jedgar pulling himself out of the boulder she'd sent him crashing into. Little stones crumbled off of the dent he'd made in it and the cracks grew larger as he dug his way out of it. There wasn't even a scratch on him.

"OW! FUCK YOU- THAT FUCKING HURT, YOU STUPID, FUCKING BITCH!" Mehgan jumped and stepped away from the head of Noma that was screaming at her from the ground. Her legs moved completely on their own as she backed away from the pieces of his body that were still moving, hands and feet crawling as they tried to reconnect with their head.

"Now, now, calm down, Prophet Eris." Kadann scolded, raising a hand and pulling Noma's head towards him without even a twitch of his fingers. He caught it by Noma's hair.

"HEY, FUCKIN' ASSWIPE- QUIT FUCKIN' PULLING MY GODDAMN HAIR!" Noma's head shouted at Kadann as he started walking towards the body on the ground.

"You hair? One would think your neck would have a higher priority." Kadann commented, mildly, before he glanced up at the retreating Mehgan, "And if you wouldn't mind, please watch where you step- you're about to trod over our dear Prophet Mammar, there." Mehgan swiveled again, just enough to see that she was almost standing on Asmod. For a second, she was tempted to just step on him before she noticed the grass around him, instead of turning green from all the rain, was turning brown and dying off.

Asmod's eyes opened, bloodshot and angry. Mehgan realized, with a shiver, that he was sucking energy out of the ground itself.

A man who couldn't be injured, a man who couldn't die, and a man who could suck up energy from anywhere... What WERE these men?

* * *

Ken had always known that Luke Skywalker was incredible, he'd known he was cool, he'd known he was everything that defined a hero and a Jedi. But he hadn't known that anybody could pull of a storm like this. It was pouring so hard that some of the cameras that fed down to these display screens were fogged up or so waterlogged that they couldn't feed clear pictures down to the screens, and all the sound receivers were deafened by the thunderous pounding of the pouring rain.

Really, Ken didn't know which one he wanted to watch and admire more- the screen, or the man who had conjured it up. Captain Solo and Chewbacca had disappeared to find a spot where they could get a clear signal on the comlink to contact someone on the surface to see if the coast was clear and meanwhile, Dee-Jay was modifying Chip's behavior program for some, unexplained reason. This left Ken alone with Commander Skywalker. Not that Ken was terribly displeased with this...

"You've never seen a rainstorm before?" Commander Skywalker finally asked. Ken jumped and looked over at him, beaming as the words registered.

"Never." He confirmed. Commander Skywalker smiled back, just a little.

"I hadn't, either. It kind of makes you wonder what else we take for granted." He mused. Ken cocked his head a little, which Commander Skyalker took as invitation to continue, "On Tatoonine, it never rained, it was never even cool enough for the moisture in the air to form a mist or a fog. The first time I set foot on a tropical planet, I was so astounded by all the moisture- in just a few minutes, my clothes were soaked through, just from all the humidity. I'd never been able to imagine so much water all in one place, but Leia, Han, even Artoo and Threepio acted like it was no big deal, because they were so used to it."

Like sunlight, Ken mused. And air that smelled like life instead of machines, and living creatures on every side of you, and all sorts of other things that Ken couldn't even imagine right now. But the words were so true and it was even cooler how wise and grown-up it made Commander Skywalker look as he said them.

"So, when you realized that they took water for granted like that, it made you think about things you did not really appreciate that you had?" Ken confirmed. Commander Skywalker's smile grew, just a little.

"Something like that, yes." Ken could feel his own smile growing, almost going off of his face as he scooted himself forward so he and Commander Skywalker were sitting exactly next to each other. It didn't last long before Commander Skywalker heaved himself to his feet, Ken scrambling to do the same, his lack of height being the only thing that stopped him from mimicking Luke's movements perfectly. A few moments later, Captain Solo came around the corner.

"Everything's under control up there- fires are out and they've dispatched medical teams for any fighters who went down. No casualties reported yet, but we might wanna get back up there before we're declared MIA." He reported. Commander Skywalker brushed himself off- why, Ken didn't understand, since there wasn't a spec of dust anywhere on him- before it occurred to Ken exactly what this meant.

"So... you are leaving, then?" Ken asked, quietly. Both Commander Skywalker and Captain Solo stared at him for a moment before Ken regained his bearings enough to speak calmly, "No, it is okay- you two have a home and people waiting for you and you need to go back. I understand. It was an honor to meet you two, even if it was just once."

Ken actually managed the words without his voice cracking or any flinch of emotion on his face, before...

"This is very peculiar, to see you being so calm and mature about this, Master Ken. Just the other day, you were boasting to HC and myself how you would one day fly around he galaxy WITH Commander Skywalker as another head of the Alliance- I cannot believe you have changed your mind in such a short time." Of course, Chip would butt in just as Ken was trying to be cool and ruin it, completely.

"Shut up, Chip!" Ken snapped, blushing again. He didn't see Commander Skywalker put a hand over his mouth and start to snicker.

"With all things considered, Ken, Chip does make a point." Dee-Jay chimed in as he appeared behind Chip, supposedly done with the reprogramming, "Being fickle is not a trait that will ensure any amount of survival on the surface." Ken hung his head, but he heard nothing more from Dee-Jay except, "Commander Skywalker, a word with you, if I may."

* * *

Mehgan hadn't moved to defend herself when Asmod pulled himself up from the ground and made a swipe at her. She was therefore surprised that he didn't complete his reach- a rock barely larger than an average chance cube had smacked Asmod directly on his eyebrow, which served as plenty distraction from attacking Mehgan.

"OW!" Asmod shouted, reaching up to massage the spot, before sarcastically adding, "That barely hurt."

"Then why did you say 'Ow'? Imbecile." Came a new voice from a tree high over their heads. Mehgan immediately looked up to meet the face of the owner of the voice.

"Oh, for the fucking love of god, where the hell do all these fucking maggots keep crawling out of?" Demanded Noma, head still clutched in Kadann's fingers. There was no reply from the others, as all seven of the prophets and Mehgan recognized the figure of Dalhouise Zuka as he stood up in the tree, his heavy black cloak concealing everything from eyeballs down on his body.

"Well, it certainly has been awhile, Lord Zuka. How have you been- I can't imagine it's been hard for you to find work since Madame Director Isard took over?" Kadann spoke with all the calmness of pleasantries, but Mehgan could hear a note of strain, as though he were only speaking politely out of a severe need to earn Dalhouise's good favor.

"That is precisely why I am here." He said, sternly. Immediately, Mehgan saw Asmod shift- not into a defensive or offensive stance, but in a readiness to flee, "I have a message from Director Isard for you seven- and the way you were fighting, seven-against-one, just a moment ago was such a revolting eyesore, I didn't want to see it continue a second longer."

Mehgan almost bristled, but she couldn't deny she was happy the fight was over.

"Your message?" Asked Jedgar, coolly.

* * *

"Now, Ken- tell me what you know about the Jedi Order and the selection of Knights and their Apprentices." Dee-Jay instructed. Ken blinked a little, but was used to pop quizzes like this.

"When Force-sensitive children were brought to the Jedi Temple, they would be brought as infants, sometimes very young children, and integrated as younglings in the Temple, training in clans with their peers under the various Masters of the Temple until it came time for the various Knights to select apprentices. By the age of thirteen, a Jedi youngling would have been picked by a Knight to train as his apprentice- if not, the Initiate was placed in one of the various Corps under the Jedi Temple's instruction- and the Master would train his apprentice until he decided his apprentice was ready for the trials to become a Jedi Knight and nominate his apprentice to take the trials." Ken rambled off. Dee-Jay nodded- whether this was an invitation for Ken to continue or if it was just acknowledgement that Ken had gotten it right, Ken didn't know, so he remained silent until Dee-Jay spoke.

"Ken, how old are you, again?" Dee-Jay asked. Ken blinked again, but answered.

"Twelve." Dee-Jay nodded, again.

"So, in terms of your Jedi Training, you would be running out of time to be picked by a Master as an Apprentice- very little, in fact, and almost enough that you would be very close to not being picked." Dee-Jay said the words with a hint of accusation, as though telling Ken he was a failure as a Jedi. Ken hung his head, ashamed.

"Yes, Dee-Jay." He agreed. Dee-Jay continued.

"Go and pack a few pairs of clothes, your oral hygeine kit, and your hairbrush." Ken looked up again, but this time, saw Commander Skywalker standing just behind Dee-Jay with a grin on his face, "And I expect that you treat Master Skywalker with appropriate respect and gratitude for this opportunity."

Ken's jaw dropped. He looked from Dee-Jay to Commander Skywalker in awe.

"You mean..." He stammered, "I... I am going WITH you?" It was Commander Skywalker's turn to nod, "As an apprentice?" Commander Skywalker nodded again. Ken's jaw went further down, like it was being drawn to the floor by a magnet.

"I shall get my stuff." He said, before running off to do just that, hoping with every step of the way that this wasn't a dream and if it was, that he never woke up.

* * *

"'Give it a rest, you seven. The race is over and you lost.' The Skywalker brat beat you all to him, so feel free to keep scouring the woods- even if you do find him, you'll have to face down Vader-spawn to get him to come with you." Dalhouise's voice was sharp and his eyes flashed, dangerously, as he delivered the ultimatum.

Mehgan felt her heart leap- Kendal was safe. Sure, the Skywalker brat wasn't the one she would have chosen for the job, but she also knew from the boy's track record that nobody and nothing short of a God in human form would be able to harm Kendal while he was under Skywalker's wing.

"I sense some agitation from you, Lord Zuka. Is this something... personal, for you?" Kadann spoke lightly, but mockingly.

"Personal? I should say so- I was rather looking forward to seeing my cute little nephew again." He said, softly, "And you seven..." Mehgan saw Dalhouise's eyes flash again, this time with the rings of black and red she'd seen him use once on her, "Have deprived me of that chance."

For some reason, Mehgan felt a chill go down the back of her neck before she realized that the rain was starting to freeze. Just within the clearing, the rain had turned to sleet, icy drops pelting not only her, but undoubtably the seven Prophets of the Dark Side as well.

She heard Kadann utter a 'tch' of disgust before they all turned and, amazingly, withdrew without another word. Even Noma's screaming as Kadann dragged his head around by the hair was silent.

Mehgan was left alone, staring up at the face of doom as Dalhouise watched her, before he held a hand up to his chin and disappeared, once more.

The icy sleet melted back into rain.

A/N: I think I'll end this one here. It's long enough, as it is.

The title song is from the Naruto soundtrack by Toshiro Masuda. I was actually listening to all three soundtracks while I wrote this- Sneaking Nightmare from the third inspired the menace of the Prophets, while The 5ths Fight helps me visualize Master Retaw kicking ass like she did in this chapter. Go find them- Amazon will give you a good deal, and they are so worth it.


	15. Part II: Chapter 5

PRINCE

By Sapadu

A/N: I'm not dead yet!

Chapter 5: Blurry

You know that I'll protect you/ from all of the obscene...

Just a week ago, Ken had been standing in this exact spot and bathing in the sunlight for the first time in his life. Now, he was standing here and, for the first time, getting completely and utterly soaked from head to toe.

"Master Ken, please, DO come back under the shelter- you could get sick from all that water!" Fussed Chip. Dee-Jay had added a new program into the little droid's systems to make him more compatible with space travel, since it was decided that Chip would be accompanying Ken when he left with Commander Skywalker. This new program had so far only made Chip a fussier, noisier companion, "Please, I insist- I cannot go out under that kind of strain, my circuits are not waterproofed. What if you freeze, or worse, catch a strain of pneumonia? I would not be able to do anything, and then what would Dee-Jay say?"

Ken ignored Chip and occupied himself by spinning around in the muddy puddles, letting the centripetal force pull his arms up as he spun. He felt the rain pummeling his arms lessen, as though he were a propeller whose wings shattered the raindrops into finer, misty pieces.

"Hey, kid- you're gonna fall." Ken looked back over his shoulder where Captain Solo and Commander Skywalker were still under the shelter of the repulsorlift's entrance. Neither of the two adults had been terribly eager to come rushing out into the downpour- why, Ken couldn't understand- and were waiting for something, both with their hands stuffed into their pockets.

No sooner had Ken looked back than his shoe caught on a little slope of mud and clay that wasn't submerged in a puddle of water, making it just wet enough to be slippery. Ken's foot slid clear out from under him, sending him to the ground with a great splash as he landed in the puddles.

"Told ya." Ken remained on his back, staring up at the gray sky and blinking each time a particularly big drop of rain hit him smack in the eye. On one side, the rain pelted him and soaked right through his silver colored clothes, but on the other, he was almost buried in the mud and water puddles- it was like taking a shower and a bath at the same time, except better because this was muddy instead of soapy. It hadn't even hurt to fall over.

In another second, Ken craned his neck to stare at Commander Skywalker and Captain Solo as he heard a kind of buzzing noise come from their general direction. Captain Solo had a round tube held up to his mouth and the noise was coming from it.

"Yes, your All High Worshipfulness?" Ken sat up as he heard some more high, static noise come from the tube- apparently, it was speak, but he couldn't understand a word of it. Captain Solo seemed to understand it better- at any rate, he continued speaking, giving coordinates and directions that didn't make sense to Ken. After a moment, though, the static noise stopped and Captain Solo hoisted the back of his jacket over his head, "Alright, Leia's found the Falcon, so she'll meet us there and give us the details on everything. Let's go, before Goldenrod blows a circuit."

Captain Solo stepped out of the protection of the repulsorlift's entrance and sunk his foot firmly into a bed of mud, starting to walk without slipping as Ken had. Ken scrambled to his feet as Commander Skywalker followed, along with Chewbacca. Chip remained firmly in place under the cover of the entrance, still fretting about the rain. Ken grabbed his elbow and pulled him along, still catching up with Commander Skywalker in less than no time despite Chip's resistance.

"So, wait, does this mean we are going to the Millennium Falcon?" Ken asked as he jogged to keep up with Commander Skywalker's pace. Commander Skywalker nodded, smiling slightly, "Chip, did you hear that? We are going to see the Millennium Falcon in person! Maybe even go on board and see the inside or be on board for a flight! Wow- I read so much about it in the library, I cannot wait! Hey, Captain Solo, is it true that you won it from Lando Calrissian in a sabacc game on a technicality?"

Captain Solo didn't turn, but Ken did hear him call back with slight annoyance,

"Hey, I won that game fair and square- it was Lando's fault he didn't get it off the lot." Ken almost tripped over a root that Commander Skywalker easily stepped over, mostly because Ken was no longer watching where his feet were going.

"That is what I said- you won the game, but got the ship on a technicality. Hey, what about the lightspeed- is it true that it did not work after the Battle of Hoth and Artoo-Detoo had to fix it to escape Darth Vader after you left... oh, wait, after Bespin, you were encased in carbonite, were you not? You would not remember then, would you? Speaking of which, what was it like? Was it true that you could not see immediately after you were released? How did you breathe that whole time? And how did you not starve to death? Did the carbonite block provide life support systems of some kind? That must have been astral. And what was it like in Jabba's palace? Were you scared? Or were you too busy trying to think of a way to escape? I will bet you were not scared- you guys must have had a lot of adventures like that, there is no way something like a few hired thugs would scare you guys. Hey, is it true that the Millennium Falcon was built years and years before the Clone Wars? And it still manages to fly even better than the fastest Imperial ships? What do you think the Corellian Engineering Corporation would say if..." Ken kept climbing over roots and boulders as he followed the two adults, having long let go of Chip to keep up the pace. He heard Captain Solo let out a long sigh.

"Luke, is that kid still talking?" He asked, but turned enough that Ken could see him smile, good-naturedly. Ken heard Commander Skywalker chuckle, but not answer, so Ken didn't think too much of the otherwise barbed remark. Instead, he continued to try climbing over a particularly slippery boulder, only to loose his footing and get stuck between the rock and a tree. A big, hairy paw reached down and pulled him up by the scruff of his neck, almost like Dee-Jay had often done, but with more growling as Chewbacca hauled Ken clear off the ground and into the air.

"Woah!" Ken's legs kicked involuntarily as his feet left the ground entirely. Still, he wasn't too scared, just spooked and Chewbacca's paw was itchy on the back of his neck. Chewie growled something that sounded friendly, but in a moment, he put Ken down on the top of the rock and gave him a shove that sent him sliding, rear end first, into the mud, "Ow."

Captain Solo started to laugh. Ken pulled his posterior out of the puddle and clumsily got to his feet again, resuming his jog.

"What is so funny, Captain Solo?" He asked. Captain Solo flashed another crooked grin.

"Chewie just called you 'pup'." Was the answer, and when Ken's best reply was to pull a confused face, Captain Solo explained, "Me 'n Luke, he calls us 'cubs'. You're such a scrawny little runt that you ain't even a cub, yet- still just a pup with eyes that ain't opened up."

Ken felt his hairs start to stand on end.

"I am not a runt!" He called, indignantly, "And my eyes are SO open." And Ken finished this statement by practically getting his foot caught in a tangled root for the third time.

"Master Ken, I DO wish you would look where you where going! And PLEASE, let us find a less leaky coverage- I was never built to venture into the open air like this." Chip had finally caught up with them, or Ken had possibly just fallen that far behind from the other two. He started to jog again to try and keep up with Captain Solo and Commander Skywalker, the former of which was laughing at Ken's expense again, this time with Chewbacca joining in.

"Whatever you say, kid." He said, before coming to a halt at the top of a steep decline that hadn't been there before, "Crap, where'd this come from?" Commander Skywalker and Chewbacca stopped next, Ken skidding to a halt and almost bumping into them as he tried to jump up and look over their shoulders.

"Probably the rain- it wouldn't surprise me if there were more washouts like this anywhere else." Commander Skywalker said, kneeling down as though looking for something. Ken watched, but was distracted as he saw the distinct outline of the Millennium Falcon through the mist further beyond the washout.

"And there is the Millennium Falcon! Come on, we are almost there!" Ken darted around the adults and Chewbacca, swinging his legs down over the side of the decline. Captain Solo's head snapped up from where he'd been searching with Commander Skywalker.

"Kid, you're gonna sli-" The warning was never completed as Ken immediately lost his footing and fell down the embankment, his back skidding against the washed out dirt and pebbles until he hit the ground with more of a splash than a thud, "You damn kid."

Ken pushed his feet on the ground, but since it was more mud than solid earth, he never quite made it all the way to his feet again until he heard a sliding noise and Commander Skywalker's boots landed solidly on the ground next to him. Ken looked up to see Commander Skywalker with his hands on his hips and his eyebrows raised, a patient, but stern almost-smile on his lips. Ken's returning grin was a bit more sheepish than he would have liked.

"Lesson one: Patience." Commander Skywalker said, slowly, and Ken was infinitely grateful that he didn't raise a lecturing finger. Just a few words, and then, the lecture was over as Commander Skywalker offered Ken a hand up and pulled him out of the slippery mud. Looking behind them, Ken could see that Commander Skywalker had made his way down on a pebble and rock covered portion of the washout, with more roots and stones sticking out of the sides that kept the mud and shale in place. That must have been what he'd been looking for, earlier- a more solid foothold to make his way down. Captain Solo and Chewbacca made their route down with greater agility than Ken had, and Chip, with a great deal of fussing and complaining that his joints weren't meant for this sort of thing.

On his feet, Ken could see the Millennium Falcon as more than just an outline through the mist- it was sharp and clear and it towered over him. It was nothing like the holoclippings. Ken could see blast marks and scratches and dents and other well earned battle scars. Still, against the silver of the hull, and the way Captain Solo puffed with pride at the sight of his ship, Ken got the sense that they were almost like badges of honor. And, above all, the size of it brought Ken to his knees with awe- he'd never seen anything quite this enormous, especially since it had looked so small on the computer screens. Even with the scales of measure he'd seen in the pictures, Ken had never understood exactly how huge this thing would be. It also made him wonder exactly how big the rest of the ships he'd read about would be when he saw them in person.

"So..." Captain Solo shot Ken another crooked grin, "Does the runt, Pup Kiddo, approve?" He asked, apparently taking great delight in using all the names Ken had told him not to use in one shot. Ken almost bristled again, but swallowed, took a deep breath, and steadied himself. He wasn't going to let Captain Solo get to him- no, he could be cool and he was gonna do this right, like a real man. Ken cleared his throat and tried to make his voice drop down as low as it could go.

"What a piece of junk." He finally declared in his best calm-and-collected voice, even though on the inside, Ken couldn't help but think 'This is SO COOL'. The result was apparently less than calm and collected, as Chewbacca snorted a growl that almost sounded like a laugh and Commander Skywalker put a hand on Ken's head and mussed up his hair, "Hey!"

"Han, I'm not gonna say I told you so." Commander Skywalker put in, again holding down a smile. Captain Solo wasn't fazed in the least, but at the same time, seemed intent on putting Ken in his place, because he immediately demanded,

"Well, kid, you know any BETTER ships?" The demand was more a question of other ships Ken had ever seen or flown on before, but Ken took it to mean of ships he'd heard of or read about, so the comment lost it's effect.

"Snoke Loroan piloted a ship that made it from here to Bespin in fifteen standard time parts- this piece of junk has only done eighteen!" Ken snapped, though the line would have been better phrased if Ken hadn't bothered to enunciate each syllable. With this argument, Chewbacca stopped laughing and Captain Solo actually turned to face Ken. Commander Skywalker subtly put himself between the Captain and Ken.

"Hey, dead pilots don't count- you know any Correllian pilots who DIDN'T get their faces smoked out of existence in the Battle of Endor who did better?" He demanded. Ken opened his mouth, plenty of smart comebacks ready at hand, but he never got the chance as a third voice put in,

"Or whose ships are still in one piece and perfect working condition?" It was a different voice from Captain Solo and Commander Skywalker's- for one thing, it wasn't as husky or throaty, for another thing, the accent was light and airy and pronounced each word with a kind of inflection that commanded respect, but didn't demand it without cause. Ken's head turned and he immediately recognized the woman coming down the Falcon's gangplank as Princess Leia.

"Leia!" Commander Skywalker started forward first. Captain Solo stayed behind, just briefly enough to shoot Ken a glance as though to say 'This isn't over, yet', then started forward himself.

"You said you'd give us the details- what happened? How many men did we lose? How 'bout ships?" Captain Solo out strode Commander Skywalker and put his arms around Princess Leia's shoulders. Ken tipped his head, frowning but saying nothing.

"We were lucky this time around." Princess Leia did the same thing with her arms, except they went around Captain Solo's waist and her hands pressed between his shoulder blades, "No men lost, and all the damages our ships received can be repaired. What I don't understand is why they were... here..." The Princess's voice trailed off as she noticed Ken and released Captain Solo.

"So, all of the Rogues made it back alright?" Commander Skywalker asked. Princess Leia glanced his way and nodded again. Commander Skywalker let out a breath of air that made steam issue from his lips like there was a fire letting off smoke in his mouth. Ken's eyes grew wide again, then imitated the gesture, holding down a giggle as his own breath also fogged up.

"Cool." He muttered, before a shiver ran up his spine. The air had gotten colder and the continuing rain was starting to numb his skin where it hit. Captain Solo and Commander Skywalker shivered too.

"Master Ken, I told you this was a foolish adventure- look at this weather. After getting wet like that, this chill is intolerable- my joints are freezing in place!" Ken looked back over his shoulder to see that Chip was, indeed, frozen in his spot. There was ice and frost creeping from his joints.

"Hey... I thought Dee-Jay said Yavin Four was tropical... does that not mean it is supposed to be warm and not GET frost like that?" Ken directed his question to the three adults, all of whom were looking significantly alarmed at the drop in temperature. Commander Skywalker's head snapped around, as though he heard something. Ken started to look in the same direction, but in a second, Commander Skywalker had jumped from the gangplank and was pushing Ken backwards with one arm, his lightsaber in his hand and ignited as he spun.

It hadn't come a second too soon- Just as Ken regained his footing, he heard a sharp whir through the chilly air and the distinct thunk of something metallic hitting the ground. It no longer squished under Ken's feet, but it crunched and crackled, completely frozen with frost biting at the grass that hadn't been swallowed up by the mud. All the puddles had turned to thick ice, and Ken could see his breath coming out in thick clouds of steam. All his wet clothes were starting to freeze and cling to him and he was now truly regretting the mud in his hair and down his back.

Ken shook his head to see that the reason Commander Skywalker had pushed him back was because, right where Ken had been standing a moment ago, there was something sharp and gleaming embedded in the frozen soil. It was long and diamond shaped and blacker than oil or the darkest dark he'd ever seen, either in his closet or under his bed.

Commander Skywalker was looking up at something- something up in the trees. Ken glanced up to follow his gaze, wondering what he could possibly be looking at, before he saw something move.

It was a person. Ken hadn't noticed before because of all the mist and because this person wore a completely black cloak that kept him hidden in the shadows of the tree branches. As the mist cleared up, Ken saw the distinct shape of a person standing on one of the branches, arm braced against the trunk and a second one of the knives stuck in the ground was in his hand.

Captain Solo had his blaster out in a second and Chewbacca had his crossbow lifted the next. Instead of firing like Ken had thought they would, he heard the creaking of machinery before he realized that the reason they hadn't fired was because their weapons were frozen as stiff and still as Chip was. Ken crept up behind Commander Skywalker and tried to speak as softly as he could.

"Should we not charge him? Before he attacks again, I mean?" He asked. Commander Skywalker's eyes moved, but his face remained fixed in the man's direction.

"What was your first lesson, just now?" Commander Skywalker asked. Ken blinked, had to think for a moment, but understood.

"Patience." He understood that much- let this strange man make the first move. It was a usual combat strategy. Ken understood. He had to. Commander Skywalker held his saber up, in case the strange man in the tree tried to throw another dagger or something. Instead, however, he spoke.

"Boy, you breathe so loudly, I could shoot you with my eyes plucked out and my thumbs in a pickling jar right next to them on a shelf somewhere." If the words hadn't been enough to make Ken shudder at such an idea, the man's voice did. It was just as cold as the frozen raindrops of ice pelting down on them, and it grated on Ken's ears, making him feel sick, inside and out. He settled for crossing his arms and trying to keep his mouth shut as his teeth chattered.

"Stay back, whoever you are." Ken almost didn't recognize Commander Skywalker's voice- it was the same pitch, accent, and everything, but his words came out so loudly and harshly that Ken almost backed away. Ken heard and felt it more than saw when the man in the tree sent his second dagger flying. Barely a second later, Commander Skywalker's lightsaber sliced it cleanly in two, the broken pieces flying in opposite directions to the sides.

"And you, Skywalker brat- I'm simply here to give you a warning of what you're getting into."

Ken felt the hairs on the back of his head stand up again, and this time, his neck felt hot instead of numb with cold.

"Hey, who do you think you are, calling him a 'brat'? He is the greatest Jedi in the galaxy and that is more than YOU can say, I will bet!" Ken would have charged, except two things held him back- his frozen clothes and Commander Skywalker's outstretched arm.

"Since the Emperor fell, a new leader has been sought from among the remnants of the Empire. You've probably seen a few, already, and you know of at least one of them that I've come to warn you about. The former director of Intelligence, Ysanne Isard. Even now, she fancies herself to be the new Empress." The man in the tree continued as though Ken hadn't spoken. Ken could practically hear Commander Skywalker's anger rising as Captain Solo snarled.

"Tell us something we don't know, buddy." Ken's eyes shifted over to Captain Solo, just long enough to see that Princess Leia had disappeared. The man in the tree spared the Captain a mere glance.

"The other two threats, unlike Madame Director Isard, will not bide their time, nor give you a chance to prepare- they intend to strike hard, and strike soon. To put it simply, Madame Director Isard, you can work your way up to dealing with her while you fend off the more aggressive adversaries that come before her. They are as follows:

"The first is a former slavelord from Kessel- the Kommandant of one of the prison camps in the spice mines, the largest and deadliest, and the one that has earned a reputation as the Factory of Gore. His name is Lord Trioculus of Kessandra. He is a vicious kind- the only thing that stops him from being as great a threat as the Director is his lack of resources and loyal followers, and even those things he once had plenty of when the Grand Moffs still had power." The man in the tree held one finger up.

"And the second is a cult of Sith, whose sights are set on reviving the old Emperor through a method that I still do not know of. There are seven of them, and each with his own abilities that make them practically invincible when combined. They call themselves the Prophets of the Dark Side. Do not confront them directly- they are less of an enemy to be fought and more of an opponent to be outmaneuvered." The man held up a second finger. Ken kept glaring, just as he knew Commander Skywalker and Captain Solo were doing.

"And you expect us to just believe you, even after you attacked us like that?" Ken demanded, even as Commander Skywalker held out his arm again. The man in the tree looked straight into Ken's eyes. Both of them were so black that Ken couldn't even tell if the man had pupils or not.

"It was you I aimed for. But if it's proof you want..." He pulled something out from inside his cloak, flinging it down towards them, "There it is for you."

Ken almost stretched his arms up to try and catch whatever had been thrown, but Commander Skywalker grabbed it out of the air first, which left Ken shivering behind him. Captain Solo had even gotten his hand around one of them- from what Ken could see now, they were folded pieces of flimsiplast with writing on them.

"What the hell is this? You're getting paid to bring this kid in, why're you just handing this over to US?" Captain Solo demanded, "I don't have an exact count, but I can see at LEAST eight zeros before this decimal point here. Don't tell me you're just walking away from this."

* * *

Leia changed channels a few times- she knew there were other teams of rescue parties out, and none of the Rogue Squadron had been brought down. She had to get an answer from someone. The question was if the signal would get through given all the rain. She'd hardly caught Han's signal earlier, and even then, there had been heavy static over the whole broadcast. She didn't know if hers would be clear enough for anyone to understand.

The comm station crackled a few more times, she turned the dial slowly, and Leia finally heard a span of white noise that came from an available comm channel. After a moment, she spoke into the sender,

"Come in, are you there? This is the Falcon, do you copy? Over." The channel buzzed loudly in her ear, enough that Leia almost pulled off the earphones, but she kept at it, "Copy, this is the Falcon, issuing a request for back up. Do you read me? Over."

* * *

Wes Janson looked up from where he'd been helping his astromech repair some of the damage done to his X-wing. It had originally lost an engine, though now, he'd at least be able to make it back to base. Still, he thought he'd heard something from his comm system. With a shrug, he turned back to his work under the tarp, but kept his ears open, just in case. He knew they hadn't lost any men, but this rain was sure complicating things.

There was a second buzz. Wes poked his head out and scurried back to the cockpit. It was his comm system, and not only that, the voice coming through the static sounded urgent. Wes strapped himself into his seat and pulled on his headgear and tuning his comm a little. Some of the static cleared up.

"This is Rogue Four, I copy Falcon." He said into the comm. The line crackled again, but he definitely heard a voice on the other end.

"Wes, is that you?" It could have been Wes' good old ears deceiving him, but he could have sworn it was Leia's voice he'd just heard.

"At your service, Your Highness. Were you calling for back up just now?" He asked, already starting to run the checks to be sure his X-Wing would make it off the ground in one piece. Leia's voice crackled again, and no matter how Wes tried to tune the station, it just wouldn't get any clearer, "Repeat, I didn't copy."

"I said, we're facing an armed combatant. He's perched in a tree to the due North of the Millenium Falcon, wearing all black. If you can handle a target that small, I can hold him until you get here." Wes frowned at the sound of Leia's voice almost as much as he was by the utter bloodthirst in her words. She sounded spooked, but all the more aggressive because she was spooked.

"You're asking me to take out a man who isn't even in a ship? Sounds like overkill calling in an X-Wing for that..." Wes mused. Leia's voice became a little more frantic.

"Wes, you haven't seen this guy... there's something not right about him, Wes- the moment he showed up, everything froze."

Wes blinked at his comm system like there was sand in his eyes.

"FROZE?" He repeated, hoping it had just been the static.

"Yes, Wes- The raindrops haven't let up over here and they turned to solid ice and Han and Chewie's weapons are frosted over to the point they can't even squeeze the triggers. There's FROST on the ground, Wes. This guy... this guy is just weird." And that was definitely panic Wes could hear in Leia's voice now.

"Also explains the static." Wes mused, "You guys' antenna is probably covered in ice. Alright, I'll make a swoop from the North-East, you keep him distracted, if nothing else, to tell me his exact location."

"Will do, Wes. Over and out." Leia's voice disappeared in the static. Wes fired up his engines and prepared for flight.

* * *

Yanking the headset off, Leia's next perogative was to find a weapon that wasn't frozen. The only blaster that she'd kept on board was a particularly long rifle that weighed about twice her own body, but it would do if she could kept it braced on something. Quietly picking up the gun, Leia crept back to the hatch, keeping carefully out of sight.

"Perhaps, Captain Solo, but in his day, the Emperor himself would promise me bounties with at least TWICE as many zeros before HIS decimal. Yet, for some reason, he was always short on cash whenever I went to claim my rewards." The strange man was saying, "What makes you think I trust his successors any further?"

Leia carefully hoisted the rifle and braced the end of its barrel on the little joint where the levers attached to the gangplank met the edge of the Falcon's hatch. It was enough to counter balance her own weight.

"So, you want US to pay you for forking over this kind of info?" Han demanded. Leia checked the scope, then adjusted the rifle just a little- the man's face was dead center, but something about it made her freeze up. The man's eyes were... unnatural, somehow. Luke had told her once in confidence about his confrontation with Vader's apparition on Dagobah, and most importantly the sense of cold dread it had inspired. For the first time, Leia understood what he'd meant. Her first meeting with Palpatine was nothing compared to this- there was something... something very, very wrong about this man. And part of it was how, even though she knew she was out of his sight, his eyes were staring straight at her. And both his irises and all of his eyes, completely, were red with black rings running through them.

"Please. I know the Alliance's wallets are drier than a desert's bones." The man said. If his voice weren't so refined, Leia would have thought his words immature, "Haven't you ever heard 'Don't check the date on a bottle of gift-wine?'"

Leia held her position, waiting for some sort of sign that Wes would be approaching. It was hard to really tell- this man seemed to deaden the whole space they were in.

"No, but I have heard 'Beware Imps bearing gifts.'" Han snapped back, to which the man in the tree almost sighed.

"Every drop of my blood is just as Corellian as yours." The man in the tree quipped, before he turned to stare at the boy who had been following Luke since they'd reunited, "I'm just giving you a warning beforehand, boy. You have three very heavy prices on your head, and I'd be hard pressed to say which is heavier: the price that wants your head still talking and thinking, or the one that asks for it on a silver platter."

Leia peered over the edge of her rifle to look around just enough and spot Luke and the cowering little runt who was standing behind him, head bent and clutched in his hands.

"Goddammit, listen when I'm talking to you." Snapped the man in the tree, throwing another one of his knives, which Luke promptly cut away, but the boy paid no heed- he rather looked like it was taking all his strength to stay on his feet, like a hammer was pounding him into the ground like a nail.

"That ringing... can none of you hear that noise?" In response, Chewie snarled something that Leia didn't understand, but she knew it was discomfort at the least. She could see Han's confused glare, before it occurred to her- never mind the boy, but if Chewbacca could hear some sort of high ringing that none of them could hear, it probably came from a machine of some sort.

Like an X-Wing.

Leia leveled her rifle and aimed again, catching the man's face in the dead center, and fired two successive shots. Even if the man dodged, Wes would at least know where he was.

The next second, Leia saw the two blaster bolts start to, of all things, slow down. They didn't stop before their target- no, Leia could see movement, before she realized the blasts she'd fired were... she didn't know how to describe it, but they were disappearing, like the swirling of a thick liquid being poured into a drain or a star system being pulled into a black hole.

"What the HELL?" Han's voice shouted.

And then, the man's eyes were on her again, dark red and looking straight into her own.

"You can come out of hiding, little Princess- I could see you perfectly well since you snuck off to send that distress signal." He called, but his voice was soft and sharp instead of raised and blunt. Leia shuddered- from the cold, she told herself- but was truly taken aback as her body started to move. She wasn't walking, but her legs were- completely on their own- onto the gangplank and into full view, just like this strange man had told her to.

"Who the KRIFF are you?" Han had apparently regained his voice, "And WHAT, while we're at it?"

Leia didn't think it would matter- this man hadn't dodged her bullets, nor repelled them like she had seen Darth Vader do to Han's blasts on Bespin, but he'd neutralized them, written them out of existance completely. Even an X-Wing's cannons weren't going to work against him, and more importantly, he knew that Wes was coming. But at the same time, Leia couldn't move- it was like someone had doused her in already freezing water and was letting the unnatural temperature freeze her in place.

Han never got his answer and the man never got to reply- the next moment, a blaster cannon bolt the size of a human head came down through the trees and hit the branch- and the man- square on, vaporizing it completely. As they looked up, an X-Wing with the inscription 'Rogue 4' came into view overhead.

"Ha ha! Good shot, Janson!" Han cheered as Chewie sent up a howl- Leia suspected it was either a victory call, or at least thanking Wes. Luke's strangled cry of alarm stopped them. Leia looked around to see he was pointing at something that was obviously on the upper hull of the Falcon. She turned as quickly as she could, only to see the strange man from the tree standing right over the main circuit with a long, black pole in his hand.

"Bad form." He scolded, bringing the pole down. It punctured a hole in the Falcon's hull and Leia heard the crackling of several thousand volts going through the circuit. She, Han, and Chewie jumped clear of the gangplank before they were electrocuted, only to see one of the ship's engines drop completely off and hit the frozen ground with a smash. Han's mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out- as though all of his air had been sucked straight out of his lungs.

"Who... are you?" Luke finally managed, and his tone was much more carefully civil than Han's had been, "And why are you doing this?"

The man tilted his head a little, eyes sliding upwards in an obvious signal. Leia's hands fumbled with the comlink as she tried to get it to the right channel in haste.

"Rogue Four, this is Falcon, issuing a ceasefire." A second later, Wes's X-Wing swooped back over, obviously flying in a circle. Leia could see his cannon taking aim, "Repeat, Rogue Four- ceasefire, ceasefire." Leia repeated, beginning to grow frantic.

It wasn't necessary- the next moment, one of the X-Wing's engines crackled and smoke started to stream from the rear port. Leia saw the pilot's seat eject as the X-Wing spiraled down into the trees, the parachute opening just in time to stop the pilot from being speared on the treetops.

"I am..." The man began, after a long, heavy silence, "...A very bored man." If Leia could have, she would have strangled the man with her bare hands at that moment.

"BORED?" She demanded, furiously. The man's eyes- now pure black instead of red and black- glared at her like sabers.

"Keep me entertained, and I'll be an ally. Bore me, and I'll interfere to MAKE things interesting." He explained. Leia was starting to get really sick of the cold shivers he sent down her back.

"That's all?" Luke asked, saber still out and ready, but lowered so he could meet the man's gaze, evenly.

"Ain't you supposed to give us some cryptic nonsense about how a family being torn apart by the Imps, or how a friend you owe a debt to asked ya to do this?" Han demanded. The man cocked an eyebrow, then sighed. Unlike Leia and the others, his breath didn't fog.

"If you insist." He said, slowly, "I am..." He raised a hand and pulled something out from under his bangs- it looked rather like bandages, "Lord Dalhouise." He lifted his bangs to reveal what they and the bandages had hidden on his forehead- it looked like a scar of some kind, but it was so far off that Leia couldn't see the details, but it was round, like a black tattoo, "The last Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Zuka."

Han's mouth opened, but before he could get a word out, Dalhouise lifted two fingers to his chin and was gone in a cloud of smoke. The moment he was gone, the rain melted and Leia found herself standing knee deep in a puddle.

* * *

"Maybe he was just jerking us around..." Luke suggested as Han filled his caf mug for the eigth time. Leia returned to the cabin in dryer clothes, looking between the two of them anxiously. Han shook his head, water spraying on the galley chopping block.

"The House of Zuka was said to have powers almost like a God of some kind, and those eyes and his mark are dead give aways." He said, running his fingers through his bangs to pull it back on his head. Luke raised an eyebrow, skeptically.

"You said yourself that the House of Zuka was more of an urban legend in the Corellian system. How can you be sure, based on a few fairy tales that were mostly used to scare children into eating their vegetables, that someone is what he claims to be? He knew you were Corellian, so maybe he thought, if he just pretended to be a figure from Corellian horror culture, it would spook you and then, the rest of us. What if he was just making it up?" Luke asked.

Han's face darkened.

"Trouble with fairy tales is..." He took a big gulp from his mug and wished for some kind of ale, "...There's always some truth in them." By now, Luke and Leia were all ears, so Han obliged, "Back before the Empire took over... think it was, like, a century ago or something... there really was a clan known as the House of Zuka. Huge family, wealthy, and everything. But, they were freaky- the whole clan was a big family of assassins and every last one of them worked for the government. That much, we know is real history. Then, sometime round fifty, maybe sixty years ago, they had some kind of split with the government and disappeared, completely. After that, all sort of rumors started, bout how the family had been cursed, or in league with a devil, or whatever, and that's where all those urban legends about them having powers and freaky eyes and each of them being marked when they became the head of the family came from."

Luke and Leia were silent, the heavy silence in the room punctuated by Han continuing to slurp from his mug of caf.

"But nobody knows if they were true or not to begin with?" Leia finally asked. Han shrugged.

"For some reason, I kinda doubt the original family made many friends with the common people- y'know, being assassins and all that." The sobering staring contest they all held was interrupted when Chewie poked his head through the hatch and growled,

":Cub, you might want to come see what the pup is doing right now.:" Han looked up from his mug long enough to frown.

"Pup?" He asked, before he remembered what Chewie had christened the kid Luke had found, "Oh HELL!" And Han was out of his seat and following his co-pilot in the direction where, he assumed, the kid was wrecking whatever havoc Chewie was worried about.

"Speaking of whom, who is that boy?" Leia was asking Luke as the twins followed Han. Han heard Luke chuckle a little.

"His name is Ken- and I guess you could say he's about as much trouble as he's worth." Luke explained. That the kid was trouble- that much, Han wouldn't argue with. He wasn't entirely sure about the kid being WORTH the trouble, though.

Han got to the gangplank to see the kid running around in circles, throwing mud up into the air and letting it hit him in the face as it came down. The droid called 'Chip' was equally splattered in mud, and, for a reason beyond Han's understanding, Artoo and Threepio had come out to join the chase and were quite thoroughly wet and filthy. None of this particularly worried Han, but when he saw a fistful of slippery mud leave the kid's hands and splatter on the hull of the Falcon, his patience drained like a dam into a stream.

"DAMMIT, KID- GET OVER HERE!" Han shouted, even as he heard Luke stifle a laugh. The boy's face snapped around and Han could have sworn that if he'd had ears and a tail, they would have perked up and started wagging. Oblivious of Han's anger, the kid came bounding up the gangplank as quickly as possible, only for Han to whap him on the head, "It's your business if you look like a pig's wallowing hole, but you keep yer muddy paws off my ship, got it?"

The boy snapped to attention, that stupid grin still big on his face.

"Yessir!" He saluted. Han glared and turned to Luke.

"Could you show this kid where the fresher is? He's gonna need it." Still trying not to laugh, Luke gestured to the kid and started to lead him in the right direction, prompted only by Han giving the boy a boot to the seat of his pants.

One distraction out of the way, Han turned back to the damage done to his ship. The mud was the least of his worries- a damaged circuit board, lost engine, and several other damages no thanks to the rain were not promising to be easy to fix.

"I ain't lookin' forward to this." Han muttered, his mood only cheered when Leia reappeared at his elbow holding out a poncho and herself already suited up for the repair job in the rain, message 'Let's go, flyboy' being more than obvious.

A/N: And... because I can't think of anything more interesting for this chapter, we're just gonna end it here.


	16. Part II: Chapter 6

PRINCE

By Sapadu

Chapter 6: Almost

And I almost had you/ but I guess that doesn't cut it.

"Well, THAT was a complete and utter failure." Groused Noma as he kicked around just about anything that came within leg's reach.

On one hand, Gornash was glad that there was a backup fortress for them all to retreat to- supposedly, this station was called Scardia, and was located in a small chunk of wild space that was, literally, in the middle of nowhere. The nearest star system was really a black hole called The Maw, and the portion of space Scardia drifted in was the system of a dying supernova that bathed the entire region in dense radiation and storms. It was luck alone that had brought them here- the electric storms and different wavelengths of microwaves to ultraviolet and gamma rays had sent all the navigation equipment into complete disarray, and Scardia itself was mostly a dead ship, save for the life-support systems.

Actually, thinking about it, Gornash wasn't sure if this could be called a fortress at all- it was more like exile. It had been enough to shake all of them up, even Noma to the point that he was no longer swearing with every other breath.

"What about it being a total, bloody disaster?" Barnaby asked, at length. It was the first thing he'd said since they'd recovered their position on Scardia, but Gornash was happy to hear something- he'd been almost concerned that the atmosphere of the Null Zone had done damage to some of the other Prophet's brains.

"That too." Noma agreed.

"We've been thwarted, but not defeated- there's no reason to take an attitude like that." Kadann finally found words, but Gornash wasn't terribly inclined to listen. He was staring out of one of the enormous windows at the void that surrounded the station. Originally, Scardia had been sphere shaped, almost like the Death Star, itself. Now, however, all that was left was the interior cube of life support systems, chambers, and failed engines, the only remainders of the sphere shape lying in the poles, tubes, and other projections from the cube that resembled the skeletal remains of the architecture that had supported the outer shell. Whether the outer shell was gone from lack of care or from the harsh conditions of the Null Zone, Gornash didn't know.

Still, it felt more like home than anywhere else had been during the Emperor's reign. Gornash wasn't sure why, but it almost felt like the ship itself was a parallel to his own cursed fate. Then, the moment the poetic idea came to his mind, Gornash felt so ridiculous that his homely feeling quickly turned to revulsion.

"So, we just keep doing... what, exactly?" Noma demanded, his temper slowly returning only to slowly disappear. Gornash remained silent.

"Same thing we do every night." Tilus interjected. He was ignored.

"I, for one, refuse to get up to my neck in all those schemes that will only get us screwed over in the end- I've seen the holodramas. I know we're the bad guys, here. We're gonna get it, and we're gonna get it BAD, in the end." Barnaby put in, raising a hand phlegmatically. Gornash looked back into the room- all seven of them were seated around a square table, Kadann at the head and Jedgar immediately to his right. Gornash was stuck in a corner between Asmod and Jedgar, while Barnaby and Tilus were sitting as far away from Kadann as they could.

"We don't need schemes- we have pawns willing to do our work FOR us." Kadann said, firmly.

"The crazy director bitch doesn't count." Noma snapped.

"No, not her- what about that warlord who owns a little gap of space nearby Dathomir? You know, the one with the name that none of us can pronounce?" Kadann looked about the table for an answer before Gornash spoke up, though mostly just to spite the man.

"Zsinj." He pronounced it perfectly, "And no, he's not going to do our bidding- he's busy playing war and wasting all his resources."

"Then, Hethrir." Jedgar suggested.

"Too busy playing with his kidnapped children." Asmod reminded them.

"Man, we really are sunk." Barnaby yawned, slouching forward and resting his forehead in his folded arms. Jedgar threw a mug at him. Barnaby dodged it, but barely, as he sat up.

"What about the Grand Moffs and their new pet warlord? The one with three eyes." Tilus raised a hammy fist into the air. Kadann leaned back in his chair, sneering.

"Perfect- we make him think that there is something to be gained by capturing the boy, then we simply take them both prisoner. Simple. I like it."

"I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that the Grand Moffs have a history of simply destroying anything that gets in their way- they're more likely to shoot the child before they capture him, the same way they did when Lord Vader wanted the Millenium Falcon captured and all that they did was ruin it." Gornash finally interjected. Kadann's eyes lit up and Gornash suddenly wished he'd kept his big mouth shut.

"That does give me an idea- Bounty Hunters. And, since we're speaking of Lord Vader and the Millenium Falcon, the best of the best would do very nicely." Kadann's eyes were gleaming with that serpentine wickedness that made Gornash want to duck.

Oh Hell.

"To Tatoonine, then."

* * *

Getting Ken clean was a simple matter. Getting him dressed afterwards was not so simple.

"You didn't bring any extra clothes..." Luke observed as he scanned the few things Ken had brought. They consisted of a doc reader, a pocket chrono, and a toothbrush. Ken remained curled up in a towel on the seat opposite of Luke, not looking remorseful in the least.

"What are we going to do, then?" Ken asked, as though expecting Luke to know.

Luke sighed then looked at the muddy pants, jacket, and shirt that Ken had left the Lost City in. In retrospect, it was probably for the best that new clothes were in order- the old ones hadn't even been made out of cloth, but some sort of metallic material, like emergency blankets were made from. Han had been right in his observation that the boy looked like someone had chrome-plated him, and if he had a price on his head, a chrome-plated twelve-year-old was probably not going to be the easiest thing to keep under wraps. If Ken's mouth didn't get him caught in a matter of minutes, the fact that he wore silver clothes definitely would.

"For now, I could probably find something of mine for you to wear..." Luke more spoke to himself than Ken, but made a mental note that the boy would have to roll the sleeves up to the elbow just to use his hands. It also meant he would have to make a trip back to the base to get some, which left Ken unsupervised and stark naked outside the Millennium Falcon's fresher. Not likely to make Han very happy.

'And thus, the Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker, learned to foresee these troubles BEFORE forcing a muddy twelve-year-old into the fresher.' He noted, wryly.

The other solutions he could think up were to pick out garments from what the Millennium Falcon had on board- Luke somewhat doubted that Han would be happy to have Ken pawing through his spare shirts and trousers, especially since his ship was now in need of repairs and it technically could be considered Ken's fault. Leia, Luke knew, had been sleeping on the spare cot for the past few weeks in the Falcon's bunker- why, she said was for practical purposes, since she spent a majority of time consulting with Han on tactics and stratagems, but Luke could read between the lines- so she probably also had some spare pieces stowed away in a compartment somewhere, but not likely any that Ken could borrow.

At any rate, Luke finally decided as he unbuttoned his jacket and handed it to Ken, at least for cover clothing, it was going to be a while before they got back to base and found Alliance issued garments in Ken's size. He'd never thought about it, but what did all the Alliance members who had families do in these situations? Where did they get clothes and shoes for their children? Surely, they didn't have three-year-old sons and daughters wearing their parents' uniforms. Or did they have to get those supplies out of pocket? That prospect made Luke edgy- not out of distaste, but concern if he COULD provide in that situation. He could take care of himself, but for someone else...

"Commander Skywalker? Is something wrong? You have been very quiet for a long time- well, I mean more quiet than you usually are. Are you just tired? That Force-Storm summons must have been hard to do- that would probably explain it. Or maybe it is because of the threat- I read somewhere once that after the human body produces a lot of adrenaline, eventually it eases off the production and if it is too sudden, it can cause fatigue and exhaustion. Is that what this is? Or is it..." Ken babbled. Luke rested his head in one hand, at least glad that his jacket reached down to the boy's knees.

"Just thinking." Luke assured him. Ken blinked rapidly, several times, before he leaned forward, as though trying to catch Luke's every syllable before anyone else.

"About what?" Luke sighed, again.

"That maybe this is what being a parent is like." Ken tipped his head, curiously, and continued to bat his eyelashes.

"So... does that make me your son? That would be pretty cool!" This time, Luke stopped Ken before he could start babbling.

"You're LIKE a son. Not the same thing, though."

"Oh." And Ken's mouth shut with an audible click from his teeth.

"Heyya, boss- Han told me you were down here!" Luke would have jumped except he knew that Wes would be along, sooner or later. Now, his appearance was more welcome than ever, "Hey, who's the cutie?" Luke saw Wes' eye sweep over Ken with a grin. Ken owlishly blinked back, but said nothing. It was the same kind of muteness that had overtaken the boy when Luke first met him.

"The something even better I told you and Hobs about." Luke replied, managing to keep a perfectly straight face in a foil to Wes' grin.

"I said she was cute- that doesn't mean you were right about her being BETTER. What's yer name, anyhoo, girlie?" Luke blinked rather hard at Wes before realizing his error- both in not introducing Ken properly right away and in giving the boy his jacket, as it did look rather like a shapeless dress at the moment. And, if Wes recognized that Ken was wearing Luke's jacket...

Oh, this was not going to be fun.

"Major Wes Janson?" Ken finally spoke, and when Wes jumped, Ken's grin grew, "I knew it- I had seen your picture so many times, I thought it had to be you. And if you know Commander Skywalker and you just called him 'boss', you would only talk like that to someone who had been commander of the Rogue Squadron. It is a great honor to meet you!"

Wes did a double take before frowning and leaning right in to stare Ken in the face. Ken kept blinking, not disturbed in the least at Wes' proximity.

"...Hey..." Wes started, slowly, "...Are you a BOY?"

"What did you think I was? A Gamorrean?" Ken asked, blinking obliviously to Wes' confusion.

Wes paused for a moment before he leaned towards Luke, his frown turning from confused to suspicious.

"Hey, Luke... when we were teasing you about getting a girlfriend... we weren't thinking..." Luke tried to inconspicuously massage his temples and failed miserably.

"I KNOW, Wes." He muttered, impatiently.

"So... Who is this kid, then?" Wes kept going. Ken, at this point, apparently could not contain himself any longer.

"My name is Ken- I used to live underground in the Lost City of the Jedi- Chip and Dee-Jay and the other droids all said I was a Jedi Prince or something, but I still think they just said that to make me feel better, so it does not really count- for twelve years until Commander Skywalker came and found me, but that was really just a few hours ago, so now I am his apprentice, but he just said that I am like a son, so I guess my name should be Ken Skywalker- except he told me that I am LIKE a son, but not quite the same thing, so it does not really count, but I still think it would be astral if I could be named after..."

"You ADOPTED a kid? Lukie, boy, even if you didn't get a girl, there are still better ways to DEAL with it." Wes shook his head, disappointed. Luke snorted a little, but the joke flew over Ken's head.

"Huh?"

"When you're older." Luke promised, trying to indiscreetly stomp on Wes' toes as he did so. Wes nimbly dodged and cast Ken a final, suspicious glance, before he turned to Luke.

"Okay, since I figured you were the closest person to go to for help, something went screwy with my ship and I could use a hand repairing it, unless you're already helping Han." Wes finally said. Luke cringed, suddenly remembering that the Falcon wasn't the only one who had taken damage with the encounter with Dalhouise Zuka a few hours ago.

Ken got to his feet, out of sheer excitement.

"I could help- I have read all about the X-Wings, I am sure I could..." He started, but Luke put a hand on his forehead and pushed the boy back down into his seat.

"You're not going anywhere in THAT." Luke said, firmly. Ken sat back down, but kept his mouth open to pester Wes with questions about X-Wings and the Rogue Squadron. In two minutes, Luke had seen Wes' frown turn from suspicious, to bemused, to outright gleeful, and Han, Leia, and Chewbacca came back down from the repairs. Han proceeded to flop down into a seat and stretch, before glancing between Wes and Ken.

"Is the crew asexually reproducing or somethin'?" He asked. Ken scooted backwards, but if it was to make room for Wes or just to get away from Han, Luke wasn't sure.

"Why're you so upset about it? Maybe I came here to HELP with repairs, ever thinka that?" Wes protested with mock hurt. Han rolled his eyes, but didn't justify Wes' reaction with a reply.

"Hey, Luke- why's the kiddo wearing yer jacket?" Han asked. Luke sighed and explained the dilemma, much to Wes and Han's amusement. Ken continued to blink, obliviously, as Leia pulled him out from his corner and took him around the corner of the Falcon's passageways.

"It's not funny- stop laughing." Luke finally growled as he finished and Wes started to howl with laughter.

"Lukie, if I'm laughing, it IS funny." Wes finally managed, before Han regained his serious attitude and brought up a second point.

"Luke, the reason you don't want the kid lookin' like he's chrome-plated is because he'll attract attention, right?" Luke paused in his attempt to straighten Wes out long enough to glance at Han.

"Mostly, yes." He agreed. Han made a face.

"Got some bad news for ya, then- if your idea of a solution is to have the kid wearin' your clothes all the time, he's gonna look like some hooker kid you picked up off the street."

Luke could feel his face flushing before it went pale again. Wes started laughing all over again. Luke aimed a kick at his shins and shut Wes up.

"A HOOKER?" Luke repeated, not entirely convinced of this argument yet. Han raised his eyebrows.

"Wearin' your shirt would look like he's wearin' a dress- they're too big on him." Han argued, "And, either way, people'd be able to tell he's wearin' YOUR shirts."

"I almost thought the same thing, remember?" Wes finally pointed out, all joking aside, "Not only that, but you can tell he's just a kid, so that can get people asking some REALLY nasty questions."

Luke felt his face drain of even more color, if it was possible.

"Chewie?" Han looked to the wookie for support, which, if Luke understood his growl well enough, he was more than willing to give.

"So, either we have the kid wanderin' around in clothes made from an emergency blanket and looking like someone chrome plated him, drawin' attention, and some bounty hunter puts two and two together and we're in trouble..." Han started.

"Or, he goes around wearing your shirts all the time, looking like some hooker kid you picked up and people asking what horrible things you're doing to the kid, or, worse, if you've turned to the OTHER side, a bounty hunter figures it out, and we're in trouble, again." Wes finished.

Luke massaged his temples again and wished the hammers would stop pounding, now.

"Hey, maybe I could wear Princess Leia's clothes- they seem to fit me, just fine." Ken poked around the corner, fully dressed in one of Leia's shirts and a pair of her pants, and windmilling his arms to prove his point.

"HELL NO!" Luke and Han snapped at the exact same time. Wes started laughing again, sliding to the floor and leaning against the wall for support, "Wes, SHUT UP!" Luke shouted, face going red as Wes blissfully ignored him.

"Did I say something wrong?" Ken asked Leia, blinking owlishly at the reactions he'd spurred. Leia rolled her eyes.

"Just ignore them- nobody on this ship knows sense when they hear it." Luke almost glared at his sister, but he was willing to concede she had a point- Ken was only the littlest bit shorter than Leia and everything that he was wearing, even a pair of boots that Leia had dug out from somewhere, fit to a T. That, and the fact that Leia's clothes neither made Ken look chrome-plated, nor like a hooker Luke had found on the streets, made the idea the best candidate out of all three ideas Luke had come up with.

But STILL...

"Were there not repairs to still be done? Can I help? I am sure I could do something, and if Major Janson's ship needs to be repaired as well, should we not all try to help and get the repairs done quicker?" Ken started up again. Luke could see the tail wagging, again.

"I'd sooner have Boba Fett help me fix my ship than a kid." Han retorted. Luke pulled a face but said nothing- on one hand, all Ken had really done so far was trip, stumble, slip, and fall. Who knew what kind of disaster the repairs would become if his hands went to work. But, on the other hand...

"Boba Fett?" Wes put in for Luke. Han shot Wes a glare that could have withered a whole bowl of freeze-dried fruit.

"If I may put in, sir..." Threepio spoke up from where he and the other two droids had been recharging against the wall and mostly silent throughout the conversation. Han swiveled in his chair and shot Threepio a look that obviously meant he might NOT put in, "The odds of completing successful repairs of this extremity within a reasonable time frame with only four capable repair hands are five-hundred twenty-seven to one."

Luke looked at Threepio with utmost incredulity. He hadn't thought the odds would be anywhere NEAR that slim- unless Threepio was defining reasonable time as a few hours, which, for humans, was not that reasonable.

"And those odds change with five capable repair hands by... HOW much?" Han pressed. Threepio's glowing eye bulbs flickered, almost like blinking.

"With five capable repair hands, the odds improve to five-hundred twenty-four to one." He responded, "And, with six, to five-hundred twenty-one to..."

"We GET the picture." Han growled. Luke had to suppress rolling his eyes at Threepio's apparent oblivion to how insignificant the change was.

"So, that means I can help, right?" Ken piped up again.

There was a long pause before Han finally got to his feet.

"If I hear any screaming, banging, exploding, or hissing, SOMEone is going to pay me in limbs, you got that?"

* * *

"_To Tatooine then, huh?" Viro muttered, drumming his fingers on his chin. Triclops was rubbing at the scars on his temples, breathing slowly and evenly as he did so, before he sat up and opened his eyes._

"_They are going to the pit of Carkoon. To Sarlacc." Triclops realized. Viro reached up and smacked his own forehead._

"_Bounty hunters... they're gonna pull Fett outta the pit. God-DAMMIT!" He swore. Triclops sighed, then pulled himself up._

"_We should be having a guest just about now." Viro looked up from his spot on the floor before the glass rippled and a figure started to rise out of it. Viro quickly got to his feet before he realized it was a woman- a very tall, very muscular, very stacked woman._

_Master Retaw's eyes opened, as though she had expected this. They landed on Viro, then frowned._

"_Wassup?" Viro greeted with a wave. Master Retaw's expression remained blank._

"_I remember you... vaguely." She said, slowly, before looking over at Triclops, "Triclops. It's been awhile."_

"_You have changed, Master Retaw." Triclops replied, nodding with respect. Master Retaw's lips twitched, but she didn't smile._

"_You should talk." Her tone was almost cheerful, but the strain drowned it out. Triclops bowed his head, just a little. Master Retaw hesitated, before she spoke again, not looking at either of them, this time, "He's safe." Triclops looked up, just for a second, "Kendal. There was... there were a few, um..."_

"_I know." Triclops said, simply. Master Retaw didn't respond, "Thank you."_

"_The Skywalker brat has him." Master Retaw continued. At this, Viro let out a loud bark of laughter and sat down. Master Retaw and Triclops both stared at him, completely non-plussed._

"_So..." Viro cackled between guffaws, "You call him... the Skywalker brat, too..." Master Retaw's countenance didn't change._

"_I call it like I see it." She replied, stiffly. Viro didn't stop laughing- if anything, her serious demeanor just made him laugh harder. Triclops turned his back on his other self._

"_Ignore him- we have done a little changing ourselves over the years."_

"_Is there something you needed to speak to me about, specifically?" Master Retaw asked, looking slightly impatient. Triclops nodded._

"_The seven you fought with to protect Kendal." He said. Master Retaw shifted a little, as though to disguise a shudder, "Follow them- they are headed to Tatoonine."_

_Master Retaw frowned._

"_What is there on Tatooine for them to go after?" She wondered out loud. Triclops explained, still ignoring Viro laughing in the background, before Master Retaw scowled, "Can't the dead rest in peace?" She hissed._

"_What they do not realize is that Boba Fett already made his way out of Sarlacc. He has been recuperating with a medic for the last eight months." Triclops pointed out. Master Retaw's eyebrows shot up, but she shrugged, more than happy to accept the explanation._

"_If that's how it works, I have no complaints." She mumbled, "So, you want me to follow them, is that it?"_

_Triclops bit his lips a little._

"_Our... current position... does make it difficult for Viro and myself to follow them." He conceded. Master Retaw laughed, mirthlessly, but shrugged._

"_Okay, sure." She relented, though easily._

"_And..." Triclops began. Master Retaw paused long enough for him to stumble over his words a little, before he completed his thought, "A question."_

_Master Retaw waited._

"_I Saw that you asked Master Yoda to keep the Lost City a secret." Triclops began. Master Retaw blinked, but nodded, silently, "He refused unless you could give him the same reason as..."_

_Triclops paused here. Master Retaw didn't need to wait long before Viro filled in,_

"_A previous pupil."_

_Master Retaw looked away. So did Triclops._

"_Did you ever find out what he meant?" He finally asked._

_There was another pause, even longer than the first, before Master Retaw sighed._

"_Never. And yet, from what I can tell, Master Yoda kept the secret, anyway. I just can't think what... what reason was given." Master Retaw muttered._

"_I will investigate that- It is the least I can do." Triclops said._

"_Kaoln is probably the best place to start- she was likely there." Master Retaw agreed. There was another pause before Master Retaw apparently felt the need to finish the conversation, with a very awkward topic, of all things, "So... anything new you two are up to?"_

"_Nothin' much. Coma, mostly. Courtesy of moi." Viro interjected. Master Retaw frowned, sternly, at Triclops._

"_If I were not in a coma, I would be an insomniac." He shrugged, remorselessly. Master Retaw sighed._

"_I understand that much." She agreed._

_Triclops nervously shifted from one foot to the other._

"_I almost gave him up." Master Retaw said, quietly. Viro and Triclops didn't respond, "Kendal. I almost told those Sith where he was."_

"_I know." Triclops replied, just as quietly. Master Retaw turned, as though to go._

"_I thought... just for a moment... I thought Kendalina might come back." It was the first time in years that Triclops had heard her name spoken, and each syllable cut like a knife._

"_I know." He repeated. Master Retaw's arms shook, as though she were trying to restrain herself from punching something, "I would have done the same, if I thought there was a chance."_

_Master Retaw looked back over her shoulder in shock. Triclops' face was just as expressionless as ever._

"_You would have given up your own son?" She whispered. Triclops raised a single eyebrow._

"_You told me 'almost'." He said, simply.

* * *

_

Luke had never thought repairs on the Millenium Falcon would take so long. Mostly, this was because he had never tried to single-handedly repair the entire ship, the way Han had done on multiple occasions. Now that the work was finished, Luke found himself with a new respect for Chewbacca and Han, mostly because Luke had only been able to complete the rewiring with Artoo's assistance and Ken handing him the tools.

But, nevertheless, finished was finished. Now, Luke was checking all the nooks and crannies he could remember about the ship, trying to find the errant Jedi Prince. Ken had gotten distracted quite frequently while trying to be of some use during the repairs- in the end, all the boy had done was hold the tools and talk until Luke's eardrums bled, everything from 'Maybe the adapters are not redirecting currents properly' to 'But if Obi-Wan Kenobi was Owen Lars' brother and Anakin Skywalker was his half-brother, that would technically make you Obi-Wan Kenobi's half-nephew, once removed'- and as soon as everything had been fixed, Ken had proceeded to get lost somewhere.

Still, if Luke hadn't heard Han or Chewbacca shouting, that probably meant that nothing was getting broken or any trouble being made.

"Hey, Luke- where'd the kid go?" Han asked as Luke poked his head into the ship's galley and looked about, hoping that Ken was in here.

"Dunno. That's why I'm looking." Luke replied. Han frowned.

"Did you check outside? I told him to go make sure sparks didn't fly when I revved the engines." Luke had to do a bit of a double take at that, just long enough to wonder why Han would make Ken do something potentially dangerous like that.

"You just didn't want to listen to him babble about the hundred and one different ways wiring could go wrong on a ship, didn't you?" Luke finally asked. Han rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

"Kid should join the interrogation squad. Prisoners'll spill their info in five minutes, tops." Han mumbled. Luke refrained from replying to that comment and went to check the Falcon's exterior.

Just as Han had predicted, Ken was sitting on the top hull, staring up at the now clearing sky.

"Ken, it's almost time to turn in- you get sick from staying up too late." Luke called, even as he pulled himself up next to Ken. The boy jumped, then grinned brightly.

"Captain Solo wanted me to check on the circuit boards- he said that if everything was working fine, they should not spark when he starts the engines. So far, I have not seen any." Ken started, before Luke plopped himself down next to Ken.

"I know- Han just told me about it." He answered, good naturedly. Now that the rain had stopped, Luke wasn't quite so concerned about getting inside again as he had been a few hours earlier. Instead of clouds, the sky overhead was a deep, but still bright, blue with streaks of darker blue and black running behind the stars like veins. In the foreground, thousands of stars glittered like shining stones at the bottom of a rippling, running river, and between them, spots of glowing blue, red, silver, and pure white gleamed, bright and strong. Altogether, the combined light from each of them was enough that, when Luke heard Ken breathe out a syllable of wonder, he could turn his head and see the Jedi Prince's face completely illuminated.

"I used to see these pictures during class or whenever I had free time to research the outside world. Dee-Jay told me that, even if you never leave a planet's surface, if you got lost or were trying to find your way, you just needed to look at the stars and you could tell where you were and which way was North, East, West, and South." Ken mumbled, eyes still wide and glittering with the reflected sky, "I never thought I would actually SEE them, though."

Luke nodded, smiling.

"Did Dee-Jay teach you how to tell the stars from the planets?" He asked, trying hard not to laugh at the expression on Ken's face as he suggested the idea.

"You can see PLANETS from here?" He asked, voice climbing in pitch. Luke pointed to a bright red star between two specks of yellow and over a glimmering gray spot.

"That right there is a planet called Zeltros, and if you look to the right, you can see a crescent shape of stars that make up the Corellian system. You see how they're brighter than any of the stars? That's because they reflect light from their own suns, instead of emitting their own light, like how moons do." Ken followed the direction Luke pointed in, before Luke saw the boy's eyes light up.

"Oh- I see. So, that blue one right there-" He pointed to smaller, dimmer, but still bright blue star, "What planet is that?"

Luke frowned, squinted, then considered.

"Given where it is and how far away it must be... I'd say it's either Endor or Bakura. Probably Bakura- Endor, as a moon, wouldn't reflect as much light as a planet." Luke stopped himself before he could go any further. Over Bakura, he'd found Dev Sibwarra, and not a few hours after meeting him, that boy had died on the Ssi-ruuk ship. And, because of that, here Luke was, alive and healthy and sitting next to another boy with a gift in the Force, eager to learn and willing to train. The idea made Luke feel vaguely nauseous, and still the more sick because he knew it had been his own fault Dev hadn't survived.

Luke looked down and scratched his head, trying not to think about it.

"Commander Skywalker?" Luke started a little, then glanced back down at Ken. The Jedi Prince was staring at him, head tilted to the side in confusion. Luke smiled, then shook his head.

"It's nothing." He said, putting his hand down on Ken's head and ruffling his hair. Ken's nose wrinkled, but he didn't say anything about it.

"How many planets have YOU been to?" He finally asked when he got his wind back. Luke sighed and scratched his head again.

"...A lot, now that I think about it. I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you know about a few of those, such as Tatooine, Dagobah, and Endor." Luke raised his eyebrows, supressing a smile as Ken's face lit up again.

"Oh, yeah- you must have gone everywhere the Alliance has gone... well, except for Dantooine and Alderaan, but after the real war with the Empire began, you must have gone just about everywhere, right? First the base here, then that mission to Mimban, then Hoth, and after that, Bespin, and after that..." Ken paused to take a breath, so Luke took the opportunity to interrupt.

"The mission to Mimban was actually nowhere near as big a deal as everyone makes it out to be- if you listen to some of the stories that go around in the hangar bay, nobody has a clue what really happened, so don't believe all of it." He put in. Ken blinked at him again, just as owlishly as he had the first time.

"So... what really did happen?" The boy asked. Luke's smile grew less strained.

"Scouting. And fighting and arguing. But mostly scouting." He surmised. Ken's head tilted even further to the right, enough that Luke wondered briefly if it didn't hurt.

"So... did you have an encounter with Vader on Mimban or not?" He asked. Luke shook his head.

"A phantom, maybe. In a nightmare or illusion, maybe. But I very sincerely doubt that was really him." Then again, there was the old adage about hindsight being twenty-twenty.

"I remember reading how you grew up raised by your Aunt and Uncle and seeing holos of the moisture farm on Tatooine and thinking that it looked a lot like my dome house. Do you miss Tatooine? What was it like there, anyway?" Ken launched back into his questions, before looking back up at the sky, "Do you think we could see it from here?"

Luke looked up, himself.

"I doubt it- from where we're sitting, Tatooine isn't in the range of our vision. Maybe we could if we were a few kilometers more to the South, and had binoculors..." Luke could see Ken visibly wilt, but he perked back up almost immediately.

"What is it like, anyway? Living in the desert?" He asked, again. Luke's reply was unhesitant, this time.

"Hot." Ken made a face that Luke had to control himself very carefully not to laugh at, "And dry." Ken pouted at the lack of useful response, before Luke thought on it a little longer and added, "And lonely."

Ken stopped pouting.

"...Do you miss it?" He asked, this time very quietly, as though he were stepping on ground that he had been told was filled with bombs.

"Funny as it may sound..." Luke started, slowly, "...There are days when I wish I'd stayed on the farm. When I wish I could go back to doing chores, hanging out with my friends at Toshii station, and arguing with my Uncle about when I could go to the Academy."

Luke pulled one knee up to his chest as he let the other dangle over the side of the Falcon's hull, resting his chin thoughtfully on his raised knee. Ken's eyes were still fixed on him as intensely as ever.

"I have DAYS like that." Luke added, "But then, I have weeks when I realize it was for the best that I did leave."

Ken's eyes widened, if that was possible, then he lowered his gaze down to his own knees, both of which were swinging as they dangled over the edge. Luke waited for a response, then when it became obvious that none was forthcoming, he nudged Ken a little.

"Something on your mind?" Ken looked back up, a wide, shy smile on his face.

"It just sounds really cool when you say it like that."

Luke couldn't hold it in any longer- he buried his face in his hands and let a long snort of laughter escape from his mouth, changing into heavy guffaws. All said and done, Chewbacca had been right calling him a 'pup'. Ken looked mildly offended, but it passed and as Luke finally sobered, Ken went back into questions.

"Do you think you would ever go back? To visit old friends or find some clue for a mystery or something for the Alliance?" Luke took a deep breath and gave Ken a Look.

"If you had studied your history properly, you'd know I'd already gone back for a very good friend." He pointed out. Ken opened his mouth, then shut it.

"Oh. Right." He giggled. Luke had to think for a moment, though- Ken's question had reminded Luke that, if the boy had a price on his head, there had to be a reason for it. And, rather than wait for a bounty hunter to come tracking him down, Luke could do some investigating, find out exactly what they would be dealing with, and already stay a step ahead of the hunters. And, if living on the planet farthest from the bright center of the universe hadn't taught him where all the unsavory outlaws and gossips gathered, Luke didn't know what would.

"Actually, maybe a trip to Mos Eisley wouldn't be too out of order." Luke finally mused, out loud. Ken blinked at him for a moment, before Luke smiled again, "Call this lesson two: Appreciation."

There was a pause before Ken looked back up at the stars, then down towards the ground, and then back at Luke again.

"I think I understand."

And then, it was time for bed, even as Ken protested through a yawn that he wasn't tired.

* * *

The old lady was hunched over her client's hand, eyes closed as she rubbed at the lines on the callused fingers.

"I'm sensing the presence of two men in your life... one of them... he's young, very young... still a child, I think." Even though her head was bowed, the old one peeked an eye open, hoping to catch a glance at her client's face. The young lady she spoke to said nothing, her green eyes bland with a complete lack of impression, "...Um... you know him, but at the same time, you don't really know him, because he does not know you..."

"So? Is there some advice or are you just trying to make me spill info about this boy?"

The fortune teller made a sour face, before she moved further down her client's hand.

"And the other man... he's not young, but he's like a child." Her customer snorted a little, but when the old lady paused, waiting for her client to speak, nothing came, "He's actually very much like the first one, very naive and pure of heart... but he's burdened... he carries a kind of power that makes his life hard... and he's led a very hard life, so far."

"You're doing it again, grams." The younger one put in, irritably. The old lady flinched, but continued, this time becoming more specific.

"The second man wishes you would return- you have not seen him for years- and there is a connection between the three of you... a bond that seems to be greater than bloodlines or any legal binding... something... something I can feel is powerful, but so great that there are no words for it, something that is beyond my knowledge to describe."

Her client smiled, just a little, before she pulled her hand away and pulled out a few coins.

"Okay, you've got me convinced you've actually got what it takes. I'll see you again." The younger woman pulled her hood up over her blond hair and swiftly left the shack, mumbling to herself, "I wonder how those two ARE doing?"

A/N: I have been watching too many of the abridged series on youtube. You will see evidence of this in the next chapter.


	17. Part II: Chapter 7

PRINCE

By Sapadu

Chapter 7: Know your enemy

Silence is the enemy/ Against your urgency/ So rally up the demons of your soul

"_Well, lookie what the cat dragged in."_

_The last time Triclops had seen Kao-Lin had been the first, and then, she had been a stubby, crabby, stuffy orthodox Jedi. Her hair had been short, but still there, with the padawan braid trailing from behind her ear, and every other word that came out of her mouth was to correct Kendalina about 'What the Jedi code permits'._

_In contrast, the smuggler Jedi Kaoln was lanky, sinewy, and bald. She wasn't tall, but at the same time, she would have been taller- much taller- than Kendalina, and probably a few kilos heavier. In her dreamscape, Kaoln conjured up two chairs and sprawled herself in one so that her head and shoulders hung over one arm and a leg dangled from the other._

_Triclops didn't take his, raising an eyebrow. He was torn between being impressed with how she'd grown up and being disgusted with how juvenile she still seemed to be._

"_Funny, but I do not recall being dragged by anything, let alone a feline." He remarked. Kaoln remained in place but conjured up a beautifully disgusted expression._

"_It's a figure of speech, you twit." She spat, then literally expelled something that was definitely not saliva from her mouth, "What'd you want?"_

_Triclops tilted his head, nose wrinkling with faint disgust at Kaoln's appalling mannerisms, but consoled himself by remembering that he didn't have to put up with her past the interview._

"_I had a question about your former Master."_

_Kaoln shifted so both her feet were propped up on her chair._

"_Which one? The one with green, wrinkly skin and big ears, or the short, little, foul-mouthed one?"_

"_Just short or little would be sufficient."_

_Kaoln made a noise that might have been laughter or a snort of disgust- Triclops wasn't sure, until Kaoln finally muttered,_

"_You're no fun."_

_Triclops furrowed his brow and gave her the best severe look he could manage. It did the trick, because Kaoln's chair disappeared and she fell to the floor with a look of earnest surprise on her face._

"_Dude, you actually looked spooky there, for a minute." She snapped, but stopped as Triclops' eyes hardened, "Fine... what kinda question'd you have about Master Orewahime? Kinda figured it wasn't Master Yoda, but still..."_

"_Yet, at the same time, he is involved with this particular investigation." Triclops interrupted, gently. Kaoln's eyebrows- what was left of them- raised with intrigue before she grinned, slightly._

"_Well, if you just wanna ASK..." She said, prompting further questioning. Triclops sat himself down in his own chair- if he had seen himself, he would have seen an uncanny resemblance to another Jedi Master, one whom he had not been so fond of._

"_As I am sure you are aware, there has been a recent scramble for either the capture or destruction of a particular individual that we both have an invested interest in keeping protected." He began, "And, sometime during a visit to your first Master's secluded residence, your former Master made a request that he refrain from mentioning any of this information to someone that, in addition to myself and Master Retaw, I will assume you refer to as 'Skywalker brat'."_

_Kaoln took a moment to digest, then hid a sneer at how Triclops was mincing words so diplomatically._

"_You assume correctly. May I inquire how you came to this knowledge without my awareness?" She answered. Triclops frowned at her, before pulling a sour face, realizing exactly how he had sounded just a moment ago._

"_Master Retaw told me that she did something similar just a few years ago, and, consequently, Master Yoda told her that... he had been paid a visit and a similar request had been made several years in advance." Triclops explained. Kaoln shrugged, accepting this explanation, before she sat up a bit more thoroughly._

"_So, Master Retaw also asked the old geezer not to let it slip that the little spawn was going to be hidden in the Lost City. What's your question?" Kaoln asked._

"_What reason did Kendalina give him?" Triclops finally asked, after not speaking for several minutes. Kaoln blinked for a long moment, before Triclops continued, "Master Retaw said that Master Yoda refused to make such a promise unless she could give him the same reason that Kendalina had given him. Yet, he kept his word- to Kendalina, I would assume- but I cannot understand what she must have said to him that would have convinced him."_

_Kaoln's stared turned from uncomprehending to disbelieving._

"_You don't KNOW?" She asked, as though she were restraining herself from laughing in Triclops' face. Triclops tried another severe look. It wasn't nearly as effective as the first._

"_I thought YOU, of all people, would have known. I mean, come ON! It was Master Orewahime! What was her reason for EVERYTHING? What was the reason she busted you out of trouble all the time? For going after Master Retaw? For defying the Temple? For... for... Oh, I dunno, for whatever stupid, boneheaded stunt she ever pulled?" Kaoln burst out. Triclops continued to frown, before it finally occurred to him- and, as it did, he wanted to hit himself for being so blind._

"_...Her way of the Jedi..." He murmured. To her credit, Kaoln didn't laugh at him. Triclops put a hand over his face, ashamed of his forgetfulness and idiocy. That had, always- always, always, ALWAYS- been Kendalina's reason, no matter how foolish the task or insurmountable the goal, and that had always- with one, very grave exception- helped her accomplish her task._

"_If it makes you feel any better, Master Yoda kinda demanded it out of her- I was kinda surprised, 'cuz I never woulda thought he'd give it more credit than logical or 'Jedi-Code-Sanctified' answers. But, sure enough, Master Orewahime spits it out, and Master Yoda just... sorta smiled and shook his head- y'know, the way he always did when he was having a 'My students are even wiser than I am' moment- and said 'Never change, will you?'" Kaoln was silent for a moment, pondering the memory, "Thinking about it, I guess Master Orewahime did it on purpose. Or maybe she didn't."_

_Triclops looked away._

"_Guess we'll never know."_

_Triclops continued mulling over the idea, before he suddenly spoke again._

"_How did she KNOW?" He mumbled. Kaoln shrugged again._

"_You're askin' me? At the time, I had my head up my ass with being a loyalist, no better than being an Imp, myself." Triclops stared down his nose at Kaoln, "It was stupid- I know. But, hey- we were supposed to protect civilization and ensure peace reigned in the galaxy, and I'd known for a while that the Order was not exactly perfect. I guess when I heard the propaganda about how the Council had attempted to overthrow the Chancellor by assassination, I swallowed it. Master Orewahime didn't and good for her. The whole time that I traveled with her, that was her lesson- don't let people spoon-feed you their garbage. Think for yourself, use your own brain. She always did, and that's how she always got out of her messes." Kaoln paused to grin at Triclops, "Be proud- yew're sleepin' with a woman smarter 'an the whole, kriffin' galaxy."_

_Triclops tried not to cringe._

"_What WAS her way of the Jedi?"_

_Kaoln looked up, also frowning._

"_Did you ever stop and think about it? Kendalina never really did say exactly what 'Her Way' was- just... actions she did. But, that is not a philosophy or a creed. What, exactly, did she mean when she said something was 'Her Way of the Jedi'?"_

_Kaoln blinked, thought for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders._

"_'Eh'uh'uh..." She grunted. Triclops glowered at her lack of intelligible speech._

"_Then, perhaps we should figure it out."_

_Kaoln got to her feet and heaved a fake sigh._

"_I'll go chase after Master Retaw- Master Orewahime always said SHE was the person who inspired 'Her Way of the Jedi.'"

* * *

_

"Why couldn't you say you're afraid of heights while we were still on the GROUND, fatass?" Noma demanded as Tilus clung, childishly, to the black gables that had formed from years of decay working at Jabba's palace gates. Just a year or so ago, the gates had been solid and blaster proof, but the material the old Hutt had picked for his palace gates was not very well suited to withstand Tatooine sandstorms. Now, it was worn away, leaving only bars of metal that had formed the structural support. The other prophets had climbed it, easily, leaving only Tilus stranded at the top, feeling sick every time he looked down.

"Why did we have to land on THIS side of the palace? And why do we have to climb over things, instead of going AROUND the damn place?" Tilus shouted back, still agitated in spite of his fear. Gornash braced himself against the palace wall, massaged his temples, scratched his beard, then stood up straight to call up,

"If we promise to catch you, will you quit your griping?"

Tilus' ape-like arms clung ever tighter to the bar he was sitting on, but he nodded. Gornash gestured for Tilus to drop, and watched, expectantly as Tilus prepared for the fall. When he did let go, however, Gornash backed up a few steps, grabbing Jedgar as he did, before pushing the taller, stockier prophet forward. Jedgar, whom had been too busy conspiring with Kadann and thus, was oblivious to the dramatics of Tilus, looked around in surprise, before he glanced up just in time for Tilus to land right on his head.

"Thanks a lot, Copy-Cat Eyes." Tilus spat, waddling off of a thoroughly winded and very irate Jedgar.

"No problem." Gornash returned, remaining supremely cool as Jedgar stood to his full height and glowered down at him.

"I should wring your neck for that." He snarled, only stopped as Kadann called for them to 'Stop fighting', but even then, Jedgar continued to tower over Gornash, breathing in his face with utmost dislike, "Give me a reason- any reason at all- and I will..." He threatened. Gornash merely blinked as spittle flew from Jedgar's lips with each syllable.

"I intend to." He replied, coolly.

"Now, now- let's have no bickering. We have a mission to complete, here." Kadann called. Jedgar stalked his way through the group down towards his comrade, and all the others moved to follow suit until Tilus moaned that he'd left his bag of candied nuts on the other side of the gate and turned back to go get them. Jedgar irritably stomped back after Tilus, only to stop and stare as the ball-shaped prophet oozed his way through the bars and back to the ship on the other side where he'd left his food. Gornash and Barnaby did their best to look as surprised as Jedgar as Tilus wormed his way back through and blinked, beadily, up at the massive High Prophet.

"What?"

"You can fit through those bars?" Jedgar demanded, his huge, hooked nose starting to run with sweat and turn purple. Tilus' head swiveled like an owl's as he looked back at the rotting gate.

"Ye-e-ea-ah..." He replied, slowly. Jedgar remained stock still for a moment, before storming back down the slope that led away from Jabba's palace.

"You are such an IDIOT."

Tilus didn't hear him- he was already digging into his bag of candied nuts. Gornash gave him a good kick, sending Tilus bald head over vanishing feet down the slope faster than any of them, with Gornash hot on his heels. Tilus pulled himself to his feet, the nuts scattered everywhere and now, unfit for anyone to eat.

"Well? Let's go- the sooner we get what we're after, the sooner we leave." Gornash said when Tilus glared at him, and proceeded to stride briskly away from Jabba's palace.

"Hey, Copy-Cat Eyes, wait up." Tilus called, getting to his feet and waddling after Gornash as fast as he could.

"Make me." Gornash called, without looking back. Now, Barnaby joined in the chase, moreso because he'd been using Gornash's shadow for his own shade than any real concern.

"Are we a little scared of the big, bad Jabba's palace?" He jeered. Gornash kept stomping resolutely forward, ignoring Barnaby. Noma, irritated, but not about to try and vent it on the three prophets he knew were stronger than him, caught up and joined in, swearing at Gornash until the taller prophet spun and pointed back at Jabba's palace. The other three turned and looked, more specifically at the two towers that Gornash pointed to.

"Don't tell me that none of you won't keep imagining smoke and fire shooting out of the tops." Gornash snapped, before he returned to his march, the other four jogging to keep up with no hesitation this time.

"Gee, thanks- I'm not gonna get any sleep tonight." Barnaby muttered, even as Noma tried to trod on the hem of his smock to make him trip.

"None of us are- just thinking about those fucking furnaces'll keep us up till the next goddamn moon cycle." He growled. Tilus kept waddling, silently, after Gornash, whose longer legs kept him well ahead of them.

"Hey." Tilus suddenly spoke up, and when Gornash didn't respond, Tilus shouted, "HEY! Copy-Cat Eyes!" Gornash glanced back, but didn't stop or respond, "HEY! You do this every time someone brings up those camps- we were there too, we all know what it's like, why don't you stop being such a little dick about it?"

Gornash jumped over a large crack in the rock and landed cleanly on the other side, despite the fact that it was completely off the path he'd been going in. Tilus bounced himself off of another rock and landed on the other side with a puff of dust, while Barnaby used one of his shadows to roll that rock over until it formed a bridge on the gap.

"Maybe I had a worse time than you did." Gornash snapped back, but in a voice that almost sounded sarcastic. Tilus rolled up into a ball and propelled himself forward with more speed than waddling would have gotten him.

"Bullshit. You didn't have it neither better or worse." Noma called, ignoring Gornash's quip about 'neither, nor'.

"How OLD were you, goin' in, anyhow?" Tilus asked, resuming his waddling, this time alongside Gornash. The towering man stopped, turned, and glowered down at Tilus, his envy-colored eyes turning to amber, goat's eyes as he did.

"...Do you REALLY want to know?" He hissed. Tilus jerked backwards. Gornash's square pupils followed. Tilus had seen the yellow eyes before, but he hadn't seen Gornash use them on anybody, and he didn't care to find out what they did.

"...No." He squeaked. Gornash's eyes returned to their usual green with long oval pupils and he stalked away, leaving Tilus gaping after him, still spooked. Barnaby caught up and hauled Tilus to his feet and tried to prod him into walking again, before they heard Gornash's voice call, from where he was starting to scale a cliff face of sandstone,

"I was twelve."

Tilus stared at Barnaby, Barnaby stared at Noma, Noma stared at Tilus. They all laughed.

"So, he's the little baby 'round here."

"Should we start callin' him 'Kid' or 'Sport' or 'Shrimp' or something?" By this point, Gornash had scaled the wall, his feet disappearing over the top ledge, before they heard his voice call back over,

"Do it, and I'll use your remains for lamp oil!"

Tilus and Barnaby ignored the jibe as they made their own way up the cliff, before a rock came flying up at them, shattering the face and halting their progress.

"Get under cover! All of you!" Jedgar's voice called. Tilus, Barnaby, and Noma went scuttling for a nearby overhang that formed a neat little cave. Kadann disappeared into a crevice that ran up the side of the slope, Jedgar ducked between shelves on the ledge, and Asmod dropped down inside the large crack that ran on the ground. Where Gornash disappeared to, nobody was sure, but it was plain enough why Jedgar had called for the duck and cover: Overhead, a high-pitched wheezing sound could be heard, sounding something like a ship breaking the sound barrier mixed with a choking man wheezing for breath.

Barnaby risked peeking out from their cover just long enough to see that a ship was coming in for a landing, if it could be called a ship at all. Half of it was so covered in rust that it was almost indistinguishable from the rocks they were all hiding under, and it wasn't in any shape that Tilus recognized.

"Where's that Copy-Cat Eyes when you need him?" Barnaby hissed. Tilus already had his face and hands to the back wall and a distinct crunching noise could be heard over the nasty noise of the ship making it's circles for landing. Noma aimed a kick at Tilus' jiggling backside.

"We're in trouble and you're EATING? What's here to stuff into your fucking mouth?" He snarled. Tilus looked back over his shoulder with a mouthful of rock and sand.

"I'm just tunneling- If I can get an arm out to the other side, maybe we can get Copy-Cat Eyes in touch an' have him do some scouting." Tilus' hands kept going at it, the mouths on the palms of his hands crunching away at the rock as he did so. Barnaby wrinkled his nose and turned away.

"Just watch what you swallow- we ain't exactly looking at your best end." He groused. Tilus continued munching away for a few minutes. The sound of the ship got louder. Barnaby and Noma tried vainly not to be dislodged as Tilus shifted to get his arm further into the hole he'd dug. One of his ears was sliding off of his face and down his neck until it had traveled down his shoulder and arm, onto his thumb. Barnaby cringed, but kept looking out from under the ledge, watching for any signs of the ship opening fire.

"Ha." Tilus finally muttered. Barnaby and Noma looked back to see how disfigured Tilus had become as he stretched himself out, his arm growing long and thin as it moved independently through the tunnel he'd chewed out. From his muttered triumph, Barnaby could only guess that he'd gotten to the other side.

"Found him?" Noma whispered. Tilus paused for a moment, blinking as though something had just occurred to him, before he grinned.

"Found him." He said, and then, a moment later- after the mouth he'd sent had asked the necessary question and the ear listened to it's response, Barnaby assumed- his face drained of all color.

"Gornash says its a Hutt ship. Old, probably over fifty years, and writing on the side." Tilus muttered back. Noma pulled a face.

"Why the hell doesn't he tell us what the writing SAYS? That'd be pretty fucking useful." He demanded. Tilus paused- probably asking Gornash that very question. His answer was less than helpful.

"Mind your own business, he says." Tilus answered. In a minute, though, they didn't need to know what the writing said. With a final wheezing and rattling, the ship came down, landing outside Jabba's palace with an audible thump that probably would have sounded more like a smash at close range.

Barnaby pulled Tilus down and lay flat on his stomach, watching for any movement from the ship. The round door opened and, even from their distance, Barnaby, Tilus, and Noma could all see a very fat Hutt wriggling his slimy way out of the door and down the ramp. He shuffled from side to side as he moved, and all three of the Prophets could see, quite distinctly, long white hair streaming from under the Hutt's lips and down from behind his eyeballs, all of it in thick braids, decorated with lavish gold hoops at the ends.

There was only one Hutt who had ever had hair- either by some mutation or by a cosmetic surgery.

"Oh shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, god-damn, motherfucking, son-of-a-WHORE!" Noma spat out, somehow refraining from shouting, "Why'd HE have to come back NOW of all times?"

"Zorba Desilijic Tiure. Figures Jabba's old slug would show up just when we've got a job to do. Man, this is gonna SUCK." Barnaby groaned.

The figure of Zorba wriggled up to the gates and started to bang on them, shaking a large piece of decayed and worn stone down from the crumbling gates. Undeterred, the Hutt wrapped his massive fingers around the revealed bars and shook them as much as he could, shouting in Huttese so that even they could hear him.

"He does realize his Huttling's dead, right?" Tilus hissed. Noma snapped at Tilus to shut up.

After several tense moments of Zorba arguing with the gate, he turned and wriggled back up the ramp to his ship. It was silent for another few moments until the engines started to whir and uselessly sputter before shakily lifting off the ground.

As soon as the ship was gone, all of the Prophets crawled out of their hiding spots.

"Nothing for it, then." Kadann's voice rang out from where he was. It echoed off of the rock walls and stone, enough that one would have thought he was larger than any of them, "We'll have to split up and go in different directions. We all meet up here again in twenty-four hours."

And then, Kadan vanished, taking Jedgar with him. Asmod took off towards Jabba's palace- for what, nobody could guess- and Barnaby, Tilus, and Noma dived back into their cave and continued tunneling their way through the cliff and out the other side.

By the time they got out, Gornash was nowhere to be seen, neither on the rocky cliff nor anywhere out on the sandy plain.

* * *

Ken pulled his hood down over his eyes and tried to bury his chin in the wrap that went around his neck. The dark brown smock went down to his knees and made him look like a walking umbrella, but Ken didn't really care- it was his first time wearing Tatooine burlap. He remembered reading files in the Jedi Library about the construction of the fabric that made it cool to wear, even on a hot planet, how the fibers were constructed out of a plant that conducted heat away from the body and actually made standing in the sun more comfortable.

So far, Ken was shivering.

"Ken, we haven't even reached the base yet. You can take that off." Commander Skywalker commented from his spot in the pilot's seat. Ken leaned forward and put his hands on the back of Commander Skywalker's chair. He could hear the creak of the seat as he did.

"Commander Skywalker, is it true that Tatooine burlap is made from hemp from the Dune Sea? Is that how everyone stays so cool on a planet with two suns? I read something about that once- Dee-Jay always said that it was because the material is such a good conductor of heat that it actually drew body heat away from whoever was wearing it, but if that were true, why does it not draw in heat from the sun?"

"Ken." Just one word, and Ken fell silent, waiting for Commander Skywalker's next words, "It's not true."

Ken blinked for several minutes, before scooting forward again and trying to pull himself on Commander Skywalker's chair.

"But, if that were true, why is this so cold?" He asked. Commander Skywalker didn't look back- then again, he probably needed to keep his eyes on their flight path.

"That's because it's so thin, and the insides of X-Wings have a cooling system so the pilots don't overheat. I'm not kidding- poke your finger through one of the holes." Was Commander Skywalker's answer. Ken did so and found that his finger went clear through the fabric as though it weren't even there.

"So... are the other clothes from Tatooine made from heat-conducting fabric?" Ken asked, determined to find a logical answer to how everyone didn't overheat. Commander Skywalker shook his head, a little, "Then, how do you keep cool?"

"You don't. That's why it's so miserable." Commander Skywalker replied. Ken was quiet for a moment, but launched back into questions.

"Do you think that maybe any really rich people on Tatooine had clothes like that? I mean, it would make sense for someone like Jabba the Hutt to have some kind of jewelry or something that would keep him cool for the entire day, no matter what the weather was like or if the power went down in his palace, right? What else was there? There must have been things like special foods that kept you from overheating because they took so long to digest that you burned fewer calories in a day and conserved heat, or drinks that kept you from ever getting thirsty, no matter how dry it was. That must have been pretty cool."

"Ken, I have an idea." Commander Skywalker sounded somewhat distracted, but since Ken couldn't see his face, he couldn't tell.

"Yeah?"

"How about you find a way to make those cool ideas of yours real? Think about what kinds of chemicals you would need to react with cells in a body and keep them from dehydrating or overheating. It could be useful."

Ken quickly made himself as comfortable as possible and did just that. It wasn't until hours later that he hadn't realized went by when he heard Commander Skywalker speaking to him, again.

"Ken? Are you still awake back there?"

Ken almost jumped, but was fully alert as he responded.

"Are we at the base already?" Commander Skywalker shook his head again.

"There's no base- since all our cover was burned away and we gave away our position in the dogfights, the Alliance Council decided to issue a temporary evacuation. All the different squadrons will go to their assigned bases in neighboring star systems, and everyone will meet up at the rendezvous point in a few months, just to be sure that nobody follows any of them."

Ken poked his head around Commander Skywalker's seat enough to see through the cockpit glass and felt his heart skip a beat when he saw nothing but black space and brightly illuminated stars. Eyes growing wide, Ken craned his neck to see more, but only got a sharp pain in his neck.

"Woah..." He breathed, before securing his hands on Commander Skywalker's seat, "Where are we going then? Are we going to the same base as the Rogue Squadron, or the major officers, or along with Captain Solo? What systems are those, anyway? I know the nearest system is the Toprawa system, but I somewhat doubt that they will be willing to harbor evacuated rebel troops, and there is another system- I forget what it is called- that was an old Sith burial grounds, so that is probably not it. The closest planet I can think of that would be guaranteed to be friendly to the Alliance would be Mon Calamari, where Admiral Ackbar is from. Either that, or it would be Dantooine, the location of the first base. Or maybe..."

"Ken." Again, the boy fell silent as he awaited Commander Skywalker's next words. There was a long pause, before Commander Skywalker shook his head, "N-Never mind..."

Ken blinked a little, part of him burning with curiosity, but the rest of him still dying to ask more questions. From Commander Skywalker's silence, however, Ken could tell he wasn't in the mood to really talk.

* * *

As the X-Wing touched down on the barren sands of Tatooine, Ken was already undoing his seat buckle and trying to unwedge himself from the little spot behind Commander Skywalker's seat. It was difficult- everything was so cumbersome and felt heavy. Ken supposed it was just stiffness from being stuck in the seat for so long, but as soon as circulation returned to his feet, he'd be fine.

The glass of the X-Wing's cockpit lifted and Ken was out before Commander Skywalker could stop him. The result was that Ken found himself flat on his face in the Tatooine sand, his nose smarting and bleeding as he had more fallen than jumped to the planet's surface.

"Ken!" There was a piff of something landing on the sand next to him and Ken found himself hauled upright by Commander Skywalker. He was dizzy and his legs were straining and his shoulders and back cringed like a giant weight was on his head. Almost immediately, Ken had to sit down again, but this time, he had the sense to fall backwards. Commander Skywalker swam into his vision, only for Ken to realize the Jedi Knight was making Ken tip his head back and pinching his nose shut.

"Wha- What was that?" Ken mumbled, his head still swimming. Commander Skywalker smiled, crookedly.

"The gravity of Tatooine is different from Yavin Four- because this is a planet, not a moon. It's usually standard procedure for pilots to dismount slowly and do basic exercises to adjust to the different gravitational pulls of new planets. That's what I was TRYING to tell you before you jumped." Commander Skywalker let go of Ken's nose, then flicked one of his fingers on Ken's forehead. Ken winced.

"Ow." Ken's hands automatically went up to cover his forehead. Commander Skywalker sat down next to Ken, still serious.

"Ken." Ken stopped cringing and snapped to attention. Commander Skywalker's face was stern, almost severe, "What was Lesson One?"

Ken blinked for a few moments before he answered, slowly.

"...Patience?" He wasn't quite guessing, but he was still unsure if that was what Commander Skywalker was technically asking. Commander Skywalker nodded, still frowning.

"And what does patience mean?"

"...Um... to wait?"

"And?"

"...To... think and be cautious before you act?"

"Very good." Commander Skywalker wasn't scolding or even really being that severe, but Ken's ears burned with embarrassment, all the same. Part of Ken wondered why Commander Skywalker didn't say anything more, but another part of him was kicking the other part for not having realized it BEFORE doing something stupid that lead to the lecture. Ken gulped and looked back down at his feet, stretching a little and determined that he was going to be patient and keep his head for the rest of the day, that he wasn't going to screw up again.

After a long moment, Commander Skywalker stood up and Ken copied him, keeping his eyes carefully fixed on Commander Skywalker and mimicking his movements, all the way through the stretches and exercises- making them standard procedure, Ken decided, was both very effective and very inconvenient. He was getting used to the gravity, but the exercises were tiring him out just as quickly, and either way, he wanted to get going. Still... patience. He wasn't going to screw up.

By the time Commander Skywalker said they could leave, Ken was panting and sweating enough to soak his shirt and barely had enough breath to confirm that he heard Commander Skywalker's decision. Still, he was glad that they would be going somewhere, so Ken didn't complain and just took a deep breath and sat down to regain his bearings while Commander Skywalker popped the bottom hatch to let Artoo out from his position.

"Um... Commander Skywalker?" Ken asked as he got to his feet and inevitably had to brace himself against the X-Wing to stop from falling over. Commander Skywalker looked over his shoulder, waiting for Ken. Just thinking about that made Ken embarrassed, "...Have you ever had problems adjusting to the gravity of a planet?"

Commander Skywalker smiled, slightly.

"Not quite problems, but when I first set foot on a planet with lower gravity, it did take me awhile to start walking normally instead of almost jumping with every other step." He said. Ken considered this, then realized that, even if Commander Skywalker could answer his next question, it wouldn't help Ken's problem any.

Commander Skywalker seemed to understand, anyway.

"Instead of trying to conquer, try to work with it." He said, slowly. Ken blinked and tilted his head, wondering what Commander Skywalker was talking about, "Draw on the Force, not to give you the strength to pull yourself up, but to move yourself forward. Just relax and trust."

Ken kept blinking, then looked down at his own feet, contemplating the idea. It sounded simple coming from Commander Skywalker, but when Ken thought about it, it sounded impossible in his own head. Still, Ken took a deep breath, braced himself, and lifted one foot. It was just as heavy as each time before, maybe even heavier because he was thinking about it and focused entirely on how much his legs ached. After a long moment, Ken put his foot back down and settled for just shuffling one foot forward in the sand, not really picking it up. It was significantly easier than trying to take a step.

Ken heard something like a sigh come from Commander Skywalker. Blinking, Ken looked up from his feet to see Commander Skywalker pull a hood over his head and start walking. Each step he took was perfectly normal, like a soldier's footsteps. Ken dragged his feet to keep moving, but he did it as quickly as he could, sending sand flying with each drag. With each step, he could tell Commander Skywalker was disappointed, and with the next step after that, Ken kept trying, focusing on the Force- or, at least, what he thought was focusing on the Force- and wondering why he couldn't do it.

* * *

If Ken had known the sun could get hotter and the air could get drier, he would not have tried to shuffle his way to Mos Eisley behind Commander Skywalker. By the time he made it, Artoo had long passed him by and both Commander Skywalker and the little droid were already well into the spaceport as Ken just reached the shade of the first building. It provided little relief- Ken was sweltering and gasping for breath and had to brace himself against the building.

He was also exhausted. Each time he blinked his eyes, it was harder to reopen them, and several steps into Mos Eisley, Ken almost closed his eyes and let the gravity of Tatooine just pull him down.

It was only when he almost walked straight into a stand that was advertising fruit and guarded by a merchant with a face like a hog with warts that Ken started fully alert and forced himself to put on a little more speed to catch up with Commander Skywalker, whom was waiting for him on the side of a low-hanging hut. Ken didn't look up to meet Commander Skywalker's eyes- he knew that the Jedi was starting to get annoyed.

Their trek eventually led them to a cantina- Ken recognized it from it's picture almost immediately and came close to blurting out everything that had been in the file on the Mos Eisley Cantina in the Lost City's library, but remembered at the last second that he had told himself that he wouldn't screw up again. Blabbing about the Lost City in the middle of the street where there could be bounty hunters or Imperial agents right around the corner, attracting attention to himself and Commander Skywalker, and possibly bringing danger on both of their heads seemed like the kind of thing that would qualify as 'screwing up'.

Ken's suspicion was confirmed as three troopers exited the cantina, one stomping and the other two swaying, stumbling, and tripping. Ken swallowed, hard, and kept his mouth shut, trying to pull his hood down lower and look unassuming as he followed Commander Skywalker. Artoo wheeled his way to the side, settling himself in a shady corner between the cantina's entrance and the building, itself. Commander Skywalker simply nodded to the man standing at the door as he entered.

Ken followed, keeping his eyes strictly on Commander Skywalker's back, before a hand grabbed him by the back of his hood and yanked him backwards. Ken found himself staring up at a towering man in an Imperial uniform with a patch over one eye. Fighting every urge to try to run away or fight back or even look scared, Ken settled for blinking up at him, even as his stomach twisted and turned as though he'd just swallowed a chunk of hot metal.

"You got any ID on you?" The officer demanded. Ken tried not to swallow, but at the same time, he was starting to feel very sick. Several thoughts flashed through his head- what if this guard knew who he was? What if he had back-up waiting, just inside the cantina? What if they'd known Commander Skywalker was coming? What if it was a trap? What if...

"He's with me. My son." Commander Skywalker put in, turning to face the guard properly. How this guard didn't recognize Commander Skywalker, Ken wasn't sure. Surely, the Empire knew who Luke Skywalker was- they couldn't just be letting him in so casually...

"Sorry to disoblige, Mister..."

"Namikaze. Minato Namikaze." And, without missing a beat, Commander Skywalker produced a fake ID with that very name printed on it. Ken had to blink for a moment before realizing: Of COURSE Commander Skywalker would come prepared.

"Sorry, Mister Namikaze, but no minors allowed. Even if they have an adult with them. Twenty-one or older, only." The officer actually sounded sincerely apologetic. Ken had to bite his tongue to stop himself from blurting out that this might be a trap. But, still, Commander Skywalker had to know that, right?

Commander Skywalker sighed, just a little, then gave Ken a stern glance.

"Naruto, go wait with your Uncle Dee and practice your exercises." He jerked his head towards the corner where Artoo was waiting outside. Ken blinked for a few moments, then realized that this was the cover they'd be using- maybe Commander Skywalker had told him that on the way and Ken just hadn't been listening- and, furthermore, that Commander Skywalker had just told the guard that Ken was his son.

Ken tried to stand a little taller and throw his voice down to disguise it.

"Sure thing, _Dad._" He said, trying to emphasize the last word as much as he could before he turned to leave. Out of the corner of his eye, Ken could have sworn he saw Commander Skywalker cast him a dirty look.

"There's a good kid- go on, off with you." The guard gave Ken a pat on the back and shooed him away. Ken trudged along, going past Artoo and beckoning to the droid to follow him. So what if he couldn't go into the cantina? He could still gather intelligence- he just had to walk around a little and listen to what people were saying and not get caught. Easy.

Ken kept his feet moving, stopping every few minutes to lean against a building, catch his breath, and try again to concentrate on the Force and use it to give him strength. A ringing raised in Ken's ears and he had to sit down in the shade of a building for a moment and cover his ears with his hands. Looking up at the sky in disgust, Ken could see a large, bell-shaped ship coming down for a landing in the docks of Mos Eisley. Again, he had to resist the urge to start talking about everything he'd learned about them- that would look pretty suspicious since there wasn't really anyone around to hear him.

"Hey, Artoo..." Ken whispered, slowly. The little droid's dome swiveled to face Ken, "...What would a Hutt ship be doing in Mos Eisley?"

* * *

Luke kept his head bent and continued into the cantina, eyes peering out from under his hood as he watched the crowd of slightly and more-than-slightly unsavory characters. He was glad he'd told Ken to stay outside- he could see at least a dozen Imperial commanders, fully dressed in uniform with their badges gleaming. Still, Luke felt something closer to pity for them than any real dislike- with the Emperor gone and all the foundations of the Empire essentially crumbling, hideouts for smugglers, bounty hunters, and outlaws were probably the only places these men could still walk about in full uniform without fear of being arrested or shot by Rebellion allies. Here, at least they still had stormtroopers for back-up.

The fact that Luke felt sorry for them while they hid out on the outer rim and miserable posts like this was probably the best indicator of how far the revolution had come.

Still, he didn't have to worry- as far as Luke could tell, the officers were busy getting very, very drunk and laughing over old war stories. The merriment ended when a worn-out old man in stormtrooper armor without his helmet ran from the bar screaming 'The Ewoks are still out there!'

"Poor old dope." Snickered one of the remaining officers, "What I'd give to see the therapist who has to treat HIM,"

"Could be worse- you guys didn't almost get blasted out of existence burning down some forest looking for some little brat."

Luke's ears opened up as he shuffled up to the bar and grunted at the bartender. The three officers didn't notice him.

"You saying you did? How come I ain't heard this story?"

"Damn, can't believe I didn't tell you guys this one- okay, y'know how, 'bout a week ago there was this big fuss on Kessel? One of the Kommandants in charge of the Spice Mines and running all of the Emperor's prisons got it into his head that HE should be in charge, not Director Isard. Don't know all the details, but the long and short of it is he joins up with this other group- not sure who, but they can't be THAT important, 'cept for the fact they've got the creds- and takes his business to Yavin Four. Director Isard told us higher ups what these guys were tryin' to do- 'pparantly, we're s'posed to believe some kid's been living underground on that hunk of dirt and the freaky Kommandant is trying to find him to bring the old Emperor back."

"Bring him BACK? What's in the rum THAT guy's drinking- Seriously, even if you COULD do it, who'd WANT to?"

"That's what I said, but if Director Isard is actually pulling us out for this, she must think there's something serious going on. Worst case scenario, it's actually true and the Kommandant and his pet need to be stopped. Most likely? Director Isard just wants to win in the pissing contest. So, we all get dragged out to this little moon off in the boonies, tanks, walkers, troops- whole party. Director Isard tells all of us that if we want to live long enough to get promotions and pay bonuses, we have to find the kid and bring him to her, alive. So, what do we do? We burn the damn place, burn it all to the ground."

"Okay, that does sound kinda stupid, but how'sat worse than being traumatized by walking toupees made into a stuffed animal franchise?"

"Because, out of nowhere, a whole swarm of X-Wings come in and start blasting us apart. Pretty much every tank was blown into comet's tail dust. My whole regiment was either shot into the air or smoldered in the fires. I had to make a run for it- if I'd gone back, Director Isard would remove my kidneys through my windpipe and use them as earrings."

"Ew. Sounds like even the old Emperor woulda been better than her."

"Still, I'd rather have her over the Kommandant, any day- did you even hear HALF the stuff about this sonofabitch? He's overseen more executions than even the most brutal of governors and a lot of them, he did himself, pulled the trigger, flipped the switch, or turned on the gas, whatever. It's gotten to the point that the slave traders have to sneak around the planet to get a proper amount of slaves into the spice mines- the Kommandant kills everyone and everything that sets foot inside the camps. I wouldn't even wish a Reb there. Some of the older troops even say that a few years ago, there was a prisoner woman who got knocked up with HIS kid, and he waited for the kid to be born, then killed them both. Seriously- Madame Director might be nasty, but she's still way better than..."

Luke was jostled as one of the officers kicked the speaker.

"Shut yer hole- there's a Moff coming this way."

Luke picked up his mug and pretended to take a drink- he knew Mos Eisley liquor too well to want to ever taste it again- and then set his mug back down and watched the approaching Moff in the reflection on the side.

"Gentlemen, I wouldn't be hearing a little discontent from you about our new Emperor, now would I?"

The speaking Moff was short and wiry, but his skinny limbs were hidden by the baggy uniform of a high-ranking officer. His voice was reedy, but deep and the way he pronounced things made it harsh and sharp, as sharp as his pointed, uneven teeth. Luke didn't risk sneaking a glance over- he wasn't frightened of the man, since he could sense that the Moff was mostly bark and orders with no real bite, but he also didn't want to risk someone recognizing him. It had only been a Jedi Mind Trick that kept the bouncer at the door from seeing Luke Skywalker, if he knew Luke's face at all.

"N-N-No... Not at all, Hissa..." Luke saw the Moff's eyebrows go up and his smile spread into a leer.

"Really?" He asked one of the other officers, "Is that the truth?"

"Y-yes, r-really... um... Grand Moff, Hissa..." The second one lied, clumsily compared to his mate. Hissa's smile continued to spread as he leaned over the man at the bar, so close that Luke, even at his distance, could feel the heat emanating from the wiry little figure.

"Funny, I could have sworn that I heard some grumbling over here- and my ears don't normally deceive me." Hissa lived up to his name- each word sounded like a snake's, "Though, I suppose, it could have been someone else- the bartender, for example."

Luke could tell the Moff was just trying to intimidate the troops- the bartender had gone back behind the cooling stores five minutes ago.

"Of... of course. It had to be the bartender, Grand Moff Hissa, sir! I would never think of..."

What the officer never would have thought of doing, Luke never heard. Hissa had pulled out a hold-out blaster and shot the officer's ear clean off. The next moment, several other patrons and drinkers had blasters out and began shooting in any direction they could- maybe they thought they were being shot at, or maybe they had just been waiting for an excuse, but within seconds, a full blown blaster fight was out. Luke dropped out of his seat and kept to the floor, sliding his way between brawler's feet to find a more secure hiding place where he could still listen to the conversations of any Imperial troops. He stretched himself out into the Force, feeling a path through all the animosity to spots of panic and disorder where other patrons had taken to hiding from the blaster bolts.

It was because Luke was so focused on finding his way to safety that he didn't notice the presence lurking behind him until a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him backwards, under a table.

* * *

Ken stepped carefully between the shadows of the buildings, trying to keep out of the sun as much as possible as he made his way towards the landing dock he'd seen the ship land in. Nobody seemed to notice him- then again, Ken could see he wasn't the only one sneaking between the shadows like a roach. It must be fairly common in Mos Eisley to see someone lurking about. All Ken could think about was how to get to the landing bay. Artoo followed at his heels, occasionally emitting a beep or whistle, or occasionally a loud buzz to either warn Ken where he was going or spook off an overly inquisitive Jawa.

Ken made it to the docks unmolested and paused before the door of Docking Bay 36. He wasn't entirely sure which one the Hutt ship had set down inside, and, for that matter, if he could just enter, or if doing so would get him blasted.

Sliding down the wall, Ken closed his eyes and focused a little. He tried to think- a Hutt ship was probably owned and operated by a Hutt. And, since Jabba the Hutt had died a year or so ago and his crime syndicate fell apart, Hutts probably no longer frequented Mos Eisley, not without a friendly face to visit. So, seeing a Hutt would probably attract a lot of attention and cause a great deal of fuss.

Then, Ken felt it- it burned and glowed and screamed like hot sparks emitting from metal scraping along metal. And, more than anything, Ken could feel it pulling him. He knew where to look. Pulling himself to his feet, Ken took off as quickly as he could. Maybe he was starting to get used to the planet's gravity or maybe it was the rush he got, knowing where he was going, but Ken could feel his feet lifting off the ground as he pelted between the buildings and finally found Docking Bay 94.

The doors were open and through them, Ken could see the old Hutt ship with it's face turned away from the door. A ramp extended down from the door on the other side and Ken heard a whirring noise, followed by a clank and then a wet, squishy sound that he could only guess meant the door had opened and it's Huttese owner was disembarking. From his spot, Ken could only see glimpses of the Hutt, little segments of green and tan wrinkly hide, from over the top of the ship or in the gap between it's legs and the ramp.

It wasn't until the creature fully disembarked and wormed his way around the ship that Ken's mouth fell open in utter shock. The Hutt was enormous- at least as tall as Ken was, and several meters long from head to tail. Every inch of it's body was spotted with brown and yellow and green aging spots and, of all things, it had hair hanging down in a beard and on it's head in long, thick, white braids.

Ken was fairly confident that Hutts couldn't grow hair. It either had to be a fake or... well, he wasn't sure what else.

"Hi chuba da naga? Kee chai chai cun kuta, peedunkey?" Ken almost jumped high enough to hit his head on the Docking Bay's doorframe as the Hutt's enormous yellow eyes fixed on him. In a panic, Ken stepped more fully into the doorway and gaped for words. He hadn't studied that much Huttese back home, but he was fairly confident that the Hutt had called him a 'punk'. Which, logically, would only fit on the ends of 'Who are you?', 'Why are you here?', or 'What do you want?' Or, possibly, all of them.

"P-Please, sir... I am here... um..." Think fast, think fast, think fast, "...On behalf of the docks... m-my boss told me to see if you found your landing pleasant... and if there is anything we can assist you with..." It was the best Ken could come up with on the spot and he barely got out of the way in time when the cranky old slug threw something at him.

"Dopo mee gusha, bukee?" Ken didn't wait to hear anymore but ran as quickly as he could, not stopping until he reached the doorway of Docking Bay 92.

"Maybe I really should have listened to Dee-Jay's lectures about other languages." Ken mumbled to Artoo as he collapsed in a heaving mess. Artoo tweddled a question that made Ken lift his head, enough to see the Hutt slithering out of his Docking Bay and demand something to the first being he could grab- a droid.

"Ah, you would be wanting Chalmun's Cantina- you will find it on Outer Kermer Way, just a few city squares past here and to the right." The droid was silenced when the Hutt smashed his fist into it, sending the droid to the ground with a clatter. Ken jumped backwards and pulled Artoo back with him, ducking behind the doorway of 92. When Ken got up the nerve to peek back out, the Hutt was gone.

Ken got to his feet.

"He is going to the same cantina that we just came from... is that not right?" He asked Artoo, the blood starting to pound painfully through the veins in his neck and wrists with panic. Artoo whistled a confirmation that it was, "We have to get there first. We have to warn Commander Skywalker that this Hutt is coming." Ken took off at a pelt, not caring about keeping to the shadows this time, nor caring to keep his disguise up- nobody recognized his face, anyway. Artoo rolled after him, not making much comment as Ken turned onto different streets to avoid meeting the Hutt and to hopefully get to the cantina through a quicker route. Ken only paused when Artoo suddenly beeped out a rather alarmed tone.

"Does something not seem odd to you about this place?" Ken skidded to a halt as best he could and looked about. Nothing seemed particularly strange about the street he'd picked- all the buildings were the same, drab brown, all made of the same sandy rock, all in the same shape, air was still just as hot and dry and stifling.

"...Well, I do not recall this street... they all do look the same..." Ken admitted, slowly.

"Are we lost, then?" Artoo demanded. Ken rolled his eyes.

"We are not lost, and even if we were, we could always ask for..." Then, it hit him- something WAS odd about this street. Where were all the people? Where was EVERYTHING, for that matter- not even a little pit droid or lost pet could be seen. The entire place was dead silent and even more dead still. Ken couldn't even hear the bustle from other streets, and his ears normally picked up on those, "Well... we can just keep walking- this must be a back alley of some sort. One where there are no people because there is nothing here. I am sure if we keep going, we will eventually come to an inhabited street where we can ask for directions."

"We should go back." Artoo beeped. Ken gulped, but didn't want to admit that that would be the best course.

"We would waste time if we did that- we need to get to the cantina as quickly as possible, before that Hutt gets there and causes trouble." Ken made the excuse up, "I got a very bad feeling off of him- he was definitely planning to do SOMEthing bad..." That, Ken was not making up. Just thinking about it made his insides writhe.

They did, finally, reach a portion of the street that branched off into another. Ken turned down it and stopped dead.

It had been inhabited- but only 'Had'. Now, Ken found himself staring down a street with no living beings left at all. Every single one of them was either a bare skeleton, blood and insides smeared on the walls of their former homes, or burnt so black that Ken would have sooner thought them to be sticks of charcoal than once living, breathing people. There was a smell in the air of metal and ash and over it all, Ken could have sworn he heard something- something that made his ears sting and throb and pound, just like the sound of ships landing and machinery creaking did.

Ken jumped when he heard the rustling from up the street- two of the blackened figures were moving, and Ken noticed that they weren't like the others, not chapped and crooked and gristly, but smooth and fluid and specks of light gleamed off of them, like stars. The only difference was that, instead of wonder, Ken was filled with an impending sense of cold dread.

One was thin, the other was round, and both of them wore their hoods up, completely hiding their faces and heads. The thin one was holding one hand up, his fingertips glowing with flames on them. The fat one was tearing the meat off of a bone, smacking his lips loudly and moistly.

"So." Hissed one, "We finally found you."

* * *

On instinct, Luke's hand dropped to saber-ready and his lightsaber's switch was against his thumb in a second. He did remember, however, that if he activated it, he would only draw attention to himself, and alert everyone in the cantina that he was a Jedi. In this current situation, that was not only an alert to any bounty hunters who might be looking for a nice reward, but also to the Imperials who knew of only one Jedi in particular, and that didn't make his cause any easier.

"Keep your head down- the fight should stop very soon."

Luke kept his head down, but twisted his neck enough to see who it was that had pulled him under this table. He didn't recognize the man who was staring out at the meleé- for that matter, Luke couldn't see much of his face at all, between the hood pulled down to his nose and the beard that Luke could tell was dyed black. Still, whoever he was, he was soon proved right about the brawl. A second after he made his proclamation, there was a loud smash from the direction of the door. Everyone stopped what they were doing just in time to see an enormous Hutt wriggling into the cantina, his balled up, wrinkled arm embedded in the stone wall of the doorway. The cantina hushed, then everyone took a step back as the Hutt made his way inside.

Luke and the other man crawled out from under the table, settling into the seats in the booth and keeping their eyes on the old slug as he oozed up to the bar, where he began bellowing in Huttese,

:"Where is Jabba the Hutt?":

Luke kept his head down, pretending not to hear. Still, he could tell that all the other patrons were plainly horrified of this Hutt.

"I was under the impression it was customary to introduce yourself before making demands." Hissa puffed himself up as best he could and looking incredibly feeble as he did so. Luke resisted the urge to shout at the man to get out of the way- it proved not to be necessary, not because the Hutt didn't swing at him, but because the old creature's aim was so poor and slow that Hissa didn't need any warning.

:"Speak to me in Huttese, lesser being.": The Hutt spat, :"I am Zorba Desilijic Tiure, and I want to know where my Jabba is, now!":

A creature on the other side of the bar coughed with laughter.

"Bit late to show up for the funeral procession."

This, apparently, was too much for Zorba- he began to roar like a kind of wounded animal, causing an uproar that sent most of the cantina occupants running for cover.

"Well, with a diversion, we can talk in peace. Are you a drinking man, Master Skywalker?" The man asked, making himself more comfortable. When Luke decided it wasn't going to get him very far asking questions and replied he wasn't, the man merely shrugged, "Neither am I, but I thought I'd ask."

"Who are you?" Luke asked, leaning back against the wall and eyeing the man suspiciously. A hapless jawa went flying past.

"Who I am: A Child of the Chosen Lands. What you may call me: Gornash, my alias." Gornash pushed his hood back enough that his green eyes gleamed out from the shadow of his hood. Luke continued to frown, scanning what he could see of Gornash as best he could for some sort of hidden weapon.

"And what are you doing here?" Luke pressed. Gornash didn't blink.

"Probably the same thing you are." As Gornash folded his hands together, Luke could see several pale scars on the long fingers that weaved together. Luke raised an eyebrow as he levelly met Gornash's gaze.

"For all you know, I'm just here for a drink and I lied about not being a drinking man." Luke supposed. Gornash unfolded his hands and started to pick at his beard.

"Only idiots come to THIS cantina to drink; you, Master Skywalker, while you might be a fool, are no idiot."

Luke's frown turned to a glower. Someone at the bar shot at the window.

"Cut the crap. What do you want?" Luke resisted the urge to punch Gornash as the man smirked.

"You came here to find information about the boy, or at least those who are after him and why. I can give you a few of those."

Luke folded his arms. Zorba picked up a stool and hurled it at the stormtroopers in the doorway.

"And?" He pressed. Gornash raised his eyebrows, "How do I know your information is accurate? And why I should trust it, anyway?"

"I know these things because I'm one of the interested parties invested in his capture. And you can trust me because the reason I'm giving you this information is purely to spite the two-leaders of our operation, simply because I'm sick of them always getting their way."

Luke considered this.

"Alright." He unfolded his arms and rested them on the table. Glasses on the bar shattered as a smuggler opened fire and missed Zorba, entirely. Gornash's amused smirk faded.

"...For starters, would you care to know what we find so interesting about that boy, why we are so intent on capturing him?"

"According to the information Director Isard gave her troops, its because you plan on resurrecting your old Master with him."

"Close, and only partially. For one, the two greedy and hubristic leaders of our sect are the most actively pursuing: I, personally, have no desire to see this through, and if you ask me why, I'll tell you right now that it's written in Ex 22:21 'May the orphan and the widow never be afflicted.'" Gornash paused, to breathe, during which Luke wondered if he would get a satisfactory enough answer should he ask what Gornash meant by THAT, "For another, prior to his timely demise, the Emperor did develop a method to bring himself back to life. What he failed to do was perfect it, because during every test run, his bodies would decay and age far too quickly. The only exception was if he possessed an already living body with... specific genetic traits."

"And Ken is the only person in the galaxy with these traits?" Luke asked, incredulously. Another blaster bolt went flying, this time extinguishing a light. Gornash scowled.

"There is one other individual- his father, to be specific- but the man is currently in a coma, which wouldn't be terribly useful for an Emperor reincarnate."

"That was a subtle way of asking what traits in specific you're looking for." Luke pointed out. Gornash looked uneasy for a moment, before he finally answered.

"A direct blood relation to the Emperor, himself." Luke had to restrain himself from jumping with shock. Gornash's smirk half-returned, but grimly, "Does that change your opinion over this boy you've taken as an apprentice? Make you uneasy knowing that it's in his blood to turn, one day or another? Help you understand exactly why he's so dangerous, why all the factions of the Empire that know of his existence are after him?"

Luke looked down at his own hands, folded on the table, staring at them in shock for several minutes before his gaze settled on his right hand. Specifically, his wrist, right on the juncture where his arm connected with the wiring and circuits that composed his droid hand.

"Who exactly do you think you're talking to?" Luke finally asked, meeting Gornash's eyes in a challenge. Gornash blinked, eyes widening like Luke had just hit him over the head with something, before he sighed and shook his head. When he reopened his eyes, he was frowning at Luke.

"Now, Zorba, I'm sure we can be reasonable about this." Hissa's voice raised over the din. Luke glanced to the side and watched- whoever Hissa was, he clearly knew nothing about Hutts, "Since you are not aware of it, I shall tell you- Jabba the Hutt was murdered by a leader of the Rebellion named Princess Leia. If it sounds reasonable to you-" Again, Hissa used 'reasonable', which only further cemented Luke's opinion that the man was an idiot, "- I could provide you with information of the Rebel base, that we uncovered if, in return, you would be willing to lend the new Emperor, Lord Trioculus, the support and finances of the Desilijic Clan."

'Like Hell you are!' Luke almost shouted, but something kicked him in the kneecap under the table. Gornash was also watching the mess. Zorba's displeasure faded- in fact, he was starting to laugh, a great, bellowing noise that made the entire room rumble.

"That's just the kind of scum I need- you'll give me the information AND a squad of your troops, and then I will think about your offer." Zorba sneered in Huttese.

"Well, if you underestimate the Empire's information network, I will give you a tip as a token of respect: Sitting in this very cantina is the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker- he will lead you to the base."

At these words, Luke had to duck out of the way as one particularly sharp-eyed bounty hunter spotted him and fired a shot. Luke's lightsaber was ignited with no hesitation and sliced down the first opponent that came in with his hands ready to choke him. More shots rang out and with a loud hum, Luke deflected them all in a single stroke.

Gornash seized the table and flipped it over, setting it as a barrier against the immediate wave of hunters, before grabbing Luke by the collar of his shirt and pulling him backwards. The next thing Luke knew, he was sitting outside, blinking dazedly up at one setting in the west and the other at his back, setting in the east. Gornash was busy sealing up the tunnel in the sand he'd evidently just crawled out of.

"Well?" Was the first word Gornash demanded when he noticed Luke still staring at him, "Get on your feet and start running if you don't want to be denounced as a coward and hypocrite the galaxy over."

Luke got to his feet but paused, just momentarily as he deactivated his lightsaber.

"Just tell me one more thing." He started, slowly, "Why are you helping? And no, I don't believe it's purely out of spite."

Gornash scowled for a moment, before drawing out a lightsaber of his own. When activated, Luke saw an envy-green blade.

"Lev 19:16. May none of My people stand idly by and watch harm be brought upon another living being."

Luke frowned, again wondering what, exactly, that meant, but he never asked- Gornash turned away to face whatever pursuers had found them and Luke left to find his missing charge.

* * *

"Hey, Noma, why're we looking for this kid again?" The fat man asked the skinnier one in between mouthfuls of the meat he was ripping off the bone. Ken didn't see either of their faces, but he could guess at the thin man's tone.

"I've already told you FIVE TIMES." Ken's knees shook so badly that he almost sat down. Artoo intoned a question that Ken didn't notice.

"Can you tell me again, for exposition's sake?" Tilus bit off the last bit of meat and started to chomp on the bone.

"No. Now shut up or you're not getting any soylent green snacks, fatass." Noma snapped. Tilus snapped the bone in his teeth and started to chew with a loud, crunching noise, but said nothing more.

"...Did you guys..." Ken stammered. Noma and Tilus both stopped their discussion to stare at him. Ken still couldn't see either of their faces, "Did you do all of this?"

Noma pulled back his hood. The face under it was long and wrinkled and looked as though all the fat and muscle had been pulled out from under the skin, leaving pockets on his cheeks and forehead, and a beard and mustache all over it.

"Jedi Prince- come with us."

They knew who he was. They knew who he was and they had been looking for him and they'd killed all of these people just to be sure Ken would be alone when they caught him. Ken's mouth went dry and his hands started to shake. He didn't need to be told who these two were- He could tell just from how they acted and from the horrible aura that surrounded them that they were, undoubtedly, the Prophets of the Dark Side. Ken took a step backwards. Noma took one forward. Ken almost tripped as he shakily tried to back up, colliding with Artoo as he did so.

Whether it was retaliation or just a means to wake Ken from his shock, Ken wasn't sure, but the next thing Artoo did was jab Ken's leg with a taser.

"Don't go." The little droid beeped.

Ken blinked, unable to really do anything but stare, numbly, at the two Prophets.

"No." He sounded braver than he felt- if anything, Ken could just tell that he was asking for a fight by talking back to them.

"No?" Noma repeated softly, "NO?!" As he spoke, flames rose up from his palms, almost like he was holding pieces of burning charcoal and someone had doused them in rocket fuel, sending the flames high and uncontrolled. Ken mustered up the best frown he could, but he had a feeling that his pale face and exactly how much he was shaking gave it away that he was scared. In a moment, though, Noma's flames settled down as he mused, "No..."

There was a pause.

"...Um... Hmm... I wasn't expecting that." Noma frowned, lowering his chin to his collarbone and chewing on his lip as he thought, "...Um... please?"

"No." Ken felt a bit braver than before this time. Noma didn't even flare up.

"Well... Crap. O-kay, we're gonna have to think about this one." He sat down and started to sincerely think. Ken stared, unsure if this was really what the Prophets were really like, or if it was just a ploy to lull him into a false sense of security. He kind of doubted it, but... still...

"Y'know, we COULD just kick his ass and, like, carry him back over our shoulders or drag him back to the ship in a burlap sack." Tilus suggested, not even looking as Ken tried to back-up as quietly as he could.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot YOU'RE the one calling the shots around here; any other ORDER you'd like to give, Great Master FATSO?"

"...I'll be quiet."

"Um, guys? What're you doing?" Barnaby dropped down from the top of one of the buildings. Noma spun around and scowled at Barnaby.

"You sure took your sweet ass pimp time getting here, you Ass!" He snapped. Barnaby grimaced and inserted one finger into his ear, twisting as he did.

"Still, you could, y'know, do something kinda useful. Ain't we kinda supposed to be over at Sarlacc- we really got lost, here."

"We were goin' to Sarlacc in the first place to fish out a bounty hunter, but we don't NEED the bounty hunter if we've already got the kid, right?"

Barnaby blinked.

"What kid?" He asked. Noma blinked back, then turned around.

From the three blocks that Ken had managed to limp away, he could hear Noma shouting, "God-DAMMIT ALL!" Not a minute later, Ken had to dodge out of the way as Noma came out to the stteet and threw a burning corpse at him. It landed, blocking Ken's path to the next exiting street, which left him cornered. A second body went flying- why Noma felt the need to hurl flaming corpses at him of all things, Ken wasn't sure- almost landing where Ken was standing. Ken ducked again, but he felt the flames almost graze his hair, and didn't see the third coming at him.

Artoo stopped any further damage by dousing the whole space with his hose. Ken was sent to the ground by a heavy corpse, landing on his back with a burnt black, stretched, charred face staring down at him, mouth gaping open, toothless and melted like the rest of the face. That was when Ken started to really scream. In a panic, he kicked and flailed until he rolled out from under the body, and started to pelt away as quickly as he could. Artoo was on his heels as they turned a corner, ducked through a door, closed and locked it, and the crawled out of the windows of the same building, Ken shoving the little droid out dome-first with a strength he didn't even know he'd been capable of.

"Ken!" Ken landed on his knees and looked up to see Commander Skywalker coming towards him, "Where were you?" Ken opened his mouth to answer, but Artoo popped open a compartment, and issued a shock, sending Commander Skywalker to the ground. Except his face melted clean off, leaving Barnaby in his place.

"Ow... god-DAMN... I KNEW this was gonna be a pain." He moaned, clutching his knee where Artoo had shocked him. Ken didn't stick around to listen- he turned and ran, Artoo following him between alleys and buildings, more than once issuing instructions in his high-pitched beeps and whistles. Ken clumsily jerked around a corner and ran right into someone. Commander Skywalker grabbed Ken's wrist, keeping him from falling over, but Ken almost automatically shook him off, holding his fists up.

"What do you want with me? Who are you? Why are you here?" He demanded, determined not to be tricked again. Commander Skywalker blinked, then sighed.

"Naruto, it's your father. Speaking of which, the cover's been blown and the entire city knows we're here now. We need to get back to the ship." Ken blinked, then put down his fists, feeling supremely foolish. Artoo beeped out something, even as Commander Skywalker took hold of Ken's wrist and started to pull him in the correct direction.

"So... are we going to do that, then or are we going back now?" Ken asked as they made it to the next set of units- these ones empty shops whose owners had gone home for the night. Commander Skywalker frowned.

"Do what?" Ken pointed to Artoo.

"Artoo just suggested we wait for night, then head back to the ship under the cover of darkness." Commander Skywalker slowly turned around and stared for a full minute. After considering the suggestion, though, he smiled.

"Alright- we'll wait. By the time it gets dark, the space ports should have lights up, but if we can get to a terminal and shut them off, that should cause enough of a diversion to get us out of port to the ship. But we'll need to keep quiet and hidden- can you do that?" He whispered to Ken. Ken nodded, mutely.

* * *

Smelly though it was, an old droid scrapyard was an excellent hiding spot. Briefly, Luke wondered if a droid graveyard was a better name for it, or if Artoo really didn't mind as much as the little droid asserted he did. Still, Luke kept his guard up, listening for any bounty hunters coming closer or some other incoming danger. Ken kept his word of remaining perfectly silent through it all, enough that, after a torturous hour of listening and almost igniting his lightsaber at every stone tumbling, Luke sat down and gave the boy a long, steady look.

"Ken, what happened?" Ken jumped a little as Luke spoke to him, but after acknowledging that he'd heard Luke's words, the Jedi Prince went back to staring at the ground. Luke looked Ken over a second time- pale face, all of his clothes utterly soaked with cold sweat, a serious expression that Luke had yet to see on any twelve-year-old's face, and body curled up with knees to his chest and arms hugging his shins. Something had happened, something that had both spooked the boy and given him reason to have something of an existential crisis.

"I haven't heard you quiet for five consecutive minutes unless you were asleep or eating since we left the Lost City, and you haven't said anything for a full hour, now. What's wrong?" Luke sat down next to Ken as the boy shuddered.

"...The people chasing us... chasing Artoo and I..." Luke frowned- he hadn't noticed any people chasing the two, but he had an idea who they were, "...Those men in the starry cloaks... We went to the docks to see why a Hutt ship had landed... and I thought we needed to come back and warn you, since he was bound for the same cantina..." Luke's eyebrows lowered into a deeper frown, but then raised in surprise, "...And we went down that street... those guys had killed everyone there... there were so many people... and they were all burned... or that round one had eaten them... and it was all because they had been looking for me... is it my fault?"

The words came out so quietly that Luke had to strain to hear them, since Ken still wasn't looking at him. Luke tried to find something to tell Ken, before Gornash's words came echoing back:

_"Does that change your opinion over this boy you've taken as an apprentice? Make you uneasy knowing that it's in his blood to turn, one day or another?" _Luke frowned, then looked back over at his new apprentice, reaching up and putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Ken jumped, then looked up. Luke smiled.

"Some day- maybe tomorrow or maybe a few years from now- you will be one of the finest Jedi and one of the greatest men this galaxy has ever seen. Just keep that in mind, and don't ever let anyone tell you different or try and change your mind." Ken blinked at him, completely nonplussed, before he looked down again, breathing a little more normally than before, "The Force will be with you. And if you trust it, and believe in it, you could do anything if it's for the people important to you."

Ken didn't say anything to that, but in a few hours, darkness had fallen, completely. With the same stealth and swiftness he was used to from battles in the war, Luke crept out of hiding and signaled for Artoo and Ken to follow as he found a computer terminal. With just a few moments, Artoo deactivated the space port's lights and the three of them disappeared from Mos Eisley. All of the bounty hunters below were too busy trying to find their own light sources or figure out where their prey had gone to, none of them noticing the blinking lights of an X-Wing soaring into space over their heads.

A/N: Whew! I got this chapter done in two days. Here's an extra special shout-out to Vegeta 3986 and MasakoX. If you guys are reading this, I am both very honored, and very, very deeply ashamed. Anyone else who is familiar with their work, you should know why.

Song title was done by Green Day.


	18. Part II: Chapter 8

PRINCE

By Sapadu

A/N: ...

...In case you can't tell, I'm kind of having a tough time right now. To make up for it, this chapter is especially long. Like, really especially long.

Chapter 8: French Perfume

It's of a bold young smuggler/ from Fortune he did sail/ He rode the waves to St. Pierre/ and he never saw the jail/ And when it's cold and foggy/ on the rocks near Spanish Room/ they say you hear him laugh/ and then you smell that French perfume

Leia paced her way around the room like a cat does when it senses an approaching thunderstorm.

She had plenty to be on edge about- the evacuation of the base had been somewhat strained, particularly when the Falcon had been damaged a few hours before, and the flight out of the Yavin system hadn't eased her worries as Han and Chewbacca had been constantly checking the ship's stats or popping open some gadget box to make sure the wires were in tact. Threepio had made the trip even more stressful with a continuous mantra of 'We're doomed' and 'The odds are...', and the addition of a droid called 'Microchip' adding in his own two cents of 'Wherever could Commander Skywalker and Master Ken be, I do hope they are not in any trouble or danger' had only reminded Leia of her own, unspoken worries.

That had been BEFORE Lando Calrissian, out of the dubious goodness of his heart, offered to put Han and all his passengers up for a few weeks in Cloud City until they could receive confirmation from the Council where the next base would be.

"It's a place to sleep, room and food are free, and they're checking the Falcon again, just to be sure nothing permanent got damaged. What'dyou gotta complain about?" Han pointed out as he made himself comfortable and Chewie propped up his feet on the table. Leia didn't look at either of them, still staring out the vast picture window.

"For one thing, the fact that Lando would just offer to let us stay here. He can't have been offering for no reason whatsoever." She snapped, irritably. In her personal opinion, Han was acting like a perfect fool, just relaxing and trusting Lando with their safety again, despite what had happened the LAST time they came here in such circumstances.

"It's the Falcon- he takes it personally every time it starts to fall apart, so he wants to be sure it gets fixed 'the right way'. Besides, the more I come back, the more chances he's got to try and win it back from me." Han dismissed Leia's concerns as he stretched.

Chewbacca chuckled. Leia frowned at the both of them.

"If he took it so personally, why would he be willing to help YOU out – repairing damages is one thing, but the way he's treating US is what's unnerving me. If the ship was all he cared about, why would he let us use his own, private quarters?" Leia asked, continuing to pace. Lando's own, private quarters weren't the only things he was letting them use – he had also offered fine dining, his personal guard, maintenance for the droids, and, really more insisted upon, a new wardrobe for Leia, whom was personally on extra guard, now.

"Luke'll be here – we just gotta wait." Han finally said, reading Leia's mind better than any Jedi could have, "How much trouble can he get into on the same hunk of rock he grew up on – he'll be fine."

Leia continued to pace, staring out into the sulfur colored clouds of Bespin, until Lando entered the room with his charming smile and a new entertainment. For once, Leia was happy to be diverted.

* * *

Kaoln had never seen Master Retaw look so pissed. Both angry and drunk, for that matter. With her prospective goal of tailing Kendal down the tubes, Master Retaw had stopped in at a cantina for a drink and one drink had turned into ten.

"Sh-to-o-opid Sh-kye-wakker brat..." Master Retaw slurred as she downed her eleventh drink. Kaoln glared at the older Jedi, not out of disapproval, but because, since she was getting so hammered, it meant Kaoln had to stay sober as the designated pilot.

"Stupid you – it's not like he was being really discreet about where he was headed, you coulda got here 'fore he did." Kaoln snapped. Nobody was really watching them – who wanted to pick up two women when it was blatantly obvious that neither of them had an eye for men?

"BAH-TENNER! Eigh'mo'!" Master Retaw called. Kaoln scowled as the bartender did just that and glared at Kaoln as though it was a crime that she didn't order any drinks.

"Any clue where to go after this? Or were you just planning to slump back to your cave and hide there until you wither up and turn into a fossil?" Kaoln asked, stacking the empty shot glasses and making a miniature pyramid with them. Master Retaw chugged two shots in one gulp, holding the glasses precariously between her fingers.

"Nonna yer damn bid-nez." Master Retaw put her head down on the table, even as Kaoln pushed away from the table with her feet. Master Retaw folded her arms around her face and it wasn't until she shifted to press her face flat against the tabletop that Kaoln realized her old Master's teacher was crying.

"'T's his fall-t." Master Retaw mumbled, her bangs covering her entire face like a curtain as she propped her chin up on the table, "Ev'rthin'. Ev'rthin' 'shat sh-toopid Sh-kye-wakker bratz fall-t." Kaoln didn't say anything, not entirely sure how to react to Master Retaw making such a serious accusation, or what the accusation really was but 'Everything' seemed pretty heavy.

"Ezza one'oo ledda damn Imps ta the Siddy'n tuck Kendal 'way. 'T's his fall-t alla furists burn down, 'at we'rout 'ere an' hidin' from'a Imps. Hell, 't's 'cuz 'ewas BORN 'atta Oh-da fell. Sh-toopid Sh-kywakker jes' wanned'a save'is sh-toopid slutveawife, an' ev'rthin' godda Hell!" It seemed to be taking an immense amount of strain for Master Retaw to make her grand speech, tripping over her words, dropping syllables and letters, and all the while, she was still crying. Kaoln stole one of Master Retaw's shots.

Still, loathe as Kaoln was to actually admit it, she had a point. Everything had been set in motion by the Skywalker brat being so much as conceived. If that stupid bitch of a Naboo senator hadn't been an idiot enough to get knocked up, or, at the very least, if they'd done the intelligent thing and seen a doctor during her pregnancy, Master Skywalker wouldn't have turned and become Darth Vader and none of this whole war would have happened. It had been Master Orewahime's favorite rant when she'd learned of the circumstances surrounding Master Skywalker's fall.

'If he wanted to save his wife from dying in childbirth, he shoulda studied to become a medic, not all those deus ex machina powers.' She'd say. Master Windu wouldn't be dead, Master Billaba might have been recovered from wherever she disappeared to, the Temple would still be standing, a safe stronghold for Jedi younglings to grow up and train in peace, all those younglings wouldn't have been slaughtered...

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe Kaoln had always thought this and never admitted it. But, all she could think now was, if it hadn't been for Master Skywalker turning – if it hadn't been for the Skywalker brat's birth – Master Orewahime would still be alive.

"So, whattya gon' do?" Master Retaw asked, resting her chin on her folded wrists. Kaoln toyed with the shot glasses, deconstructing her pyramid and stacking the glasses like a palace, complete with a surrounding wall and spires.

"Bout what?" Kaoln asked, not looking up from her work of art. Master Retaw drained another shot glass and placed it at the very top of the palace center.

"Kendal's gone. Yew gon' falla'em 'r jus' sh-tay'ere?" Master Retaw sounded incredibly sane for being drunk.

"I go where the wind takes me. Right now, I was thinkin' I should tail you fer awhile." Master Retaw raised her eyebrows, apparently not expecting something so thoughtful to come out of Kaoln's mouth, "Just to make sure you don't get in trouble." Kaoln quickly amended. Master Retaw sneered and chugged her last shot.

"'At's m'line, brat." She mumbled, her hand shaking as she passed Kaoln the glass, watching with apparent interest as Kaoln finished her creation of shot glasses, "...Sh-till gud'dea... 'Swat Ken'alina'd wan'."

"Master Orewahime's main focus was that I become a better Jedi. Or, failing that, a better person." Kaoln looked down at herself, from her lean arms to her hanging gut, chapped knees to rugged clothes. She was a smuggler, a drinker, a bacco chewer, a lezzer, and to top it off, she didn't even have a real idea of what to do with her skills in the Force. Sure, she could sense other presences and that made her a successful smuggler, never having gotten caught or even pursued by an Imp ship or a rival, and she was doing it for a good cause, but... "I can just feel the boxing she'd give my ears'f she saw me now."

"Falla'd by'a rant'a how PROUD shew'z." Master Retaw pointed out, a quirky smile going across her face before she seriously examined the table, "Sho... yew're lookin'ta new Massers?"

Kaoln raised an eyebrow, particularly with how Master Retaw was dazedly grinning at her.

"...Are you OFFERING?" She finally asked. Master Retaw snickered, ran a hand over her face, then pulled her bangs back.

"'At's it – we falla'em t'Bes-bin, I train'ya, 'en yew'll take-a boy an' teach'im. Masser plan – 'at way, nodin' goez wrong." Master Retaw cheered, sitting up and throwing her fist into the air, loud enough that everyone turned to stare at them, including a Barabel and an old Hutt over in the corner.

"Hey, lady!" The bartender shouted at Kaoln as she tried to drag Master Retaw out before anyone noticed the lightsaber hidden under her robes. Kaoln shot the bartender a nasty look, "Get yer girlfriend outta here – we don't wanna listen to that!"

"Shaddup! We payin' you!" Kaoln shouted back, chucking a credit chip at the man's head and concealing her glee when it bopped him on the forehead – she didn't care, it had more than enough to pay for the table and drinks, combined. Master Retaw staggered against Kaoln and almost dragged them both down as Kaoln tried to support both of their weight, "Geezus, how much do those tits of yours weigh?", "Tits, 'snot teats.", "That's what I SAID!" Kaoln bickered with the drunken Master Retaw all the way back to the ship, all the while considering the 'Master plan'.

"Think Master Orewahime'd like this plan?" Kaoln asked as she got Master Retaw settled into one of the bunks on her ship – so far, Kaoln hadn't named it, she and Gwen hadn't ever been able to agree on one. Master Retaw opened one eye and stared up at Kaoln.

"'Fit wuz f'r'me'r Trah-clops, she'd do an'th'n... pritty sure she'd do't fer Kendal, too... an' yew..." Master Retaw rolled over and settled down, before she mumbled, sleepily, "...'S her way..."

Kaoln frowned as Master Retaw fell asleep, then left the ship to finish packing up all her goods – she'd promised the Rogue Squadron and Gwen some smokes and rum.

* * *

Like everything else in the galaxy, Cloud City was so much more impressive when Ken saw it with his own two eyes instead of in a picture. The countless windows and gleaming railings, balconies, and spires that reflected back the light and pictures of the residents dwelling within was like seeing billions of lights glowing and flickering.

But, over that, Ken could sense the city in another way – it was like he could hear it, calling out in a voice that didn't seem to use words, something that he could hear, even over the ringing in his ears of the X-Wing and all the other machinery in the air. He could see the city glowing as though it radiated with life, each individual a different color that stood out and blended in at the same time. Ken's fingers went numb as he gripped the back of Commander Skywalker's seat, leaning forward as the ship carefully circled in closer. It was as though Ken could see the path the ship took before Commander Skywalker turned the steering controls.

"Ken, breathe." Commander Skywalker said from the front seat. Ken jumped, before he realized that it was an appropriate command – in his excitement, he'd forgotten.

Just a minute later, the X-Wing docked in a platform in the lower levels. Ken undid his restraints as quickly as possible and then impatiently waited for Commander Skywalker to open the hatch. Several minutes passed as the cockpit opened and Commander Skywalker exited first, then told Ken he could get out.

Ken squirmed out from behind the pilot chair, swung his legs over the side of the X-Wing, and dropped to the floor, a bit more carefully than he had on Tatooine. The impact wasn't anywhere as harsh or painful as Ken had expected – then again, Bespin was a gas giant, so it's own gravity was probably not as strong as a solid planet like Tatooine – but the duracrete had so little give to it that Ken found himself falling over and hitting the floor with a thud.

"Easy, there." Commander Skywalker offered Ken a hand up. Ken got to his feet and quietly followed Commander Skywalker towards the door to the hangar. Ken glanced backwards to see Artoo ejecting himself from the X-Wing and following them, the door opening just in time for a man flanked by Cloud City guards to practically walk right into the two of them.

"Oh, it's you." Ken stared at this man -- he was even taller than Commander Skywalker, but not menacing in his height, in fact, he was rather nice. But more than that, Ken couldn't help but stare at the man's face -- it was an even shade of brown that Ken was certain wasn't just a tan like Commander Skywalker's nor from not washing properly. He'd never seen that before. Ken wondered if it was something about the light or if maybe it was his eyes or something -- no, Commander Skywalker looked the same as ever, and besides, this man's hair matched perfectly, as though he'd been dipped in dye as a whole. It SEEMED natural, but Ken still couldn't help but stare.

"Sorry for not contacting you beforehand." Commander Skywalker extended a hand. Ken tried to hide behind him as much as he could, not because he was scared, but more because he wasn't sure what to think.

"It's no problem -- Han an' Leia are here already, I had a feeling you'd be along sooner or later." The man looked over Commander Skywalker's shoulder and straight at Ken, "Hell-o, who's this?"

Commander Skywalker looked back at Ken, whom was by now trying to disappear into Commander Skywalker's pilot suit.

"This is Ken, and an acute case of muteness." Ken peered up just long enough to convince himself that he'd seen this man's face SOMEwhere before, but he couldn't think of where. The man raised a black, line thin eyebrow and shot Commander Skywalker a look.

"Cute kid, he yours?" The reply Commander Skywalker gave him was an offended, "No."

That was when Ken remembered.

"Oh! Lando Calrissian -- is that not who you are? The Baron Administrator of Cloud City, the largest colony of Tibanna mines in the galaxy? I KNEW I recognized you from somewhere, but all the pictures I ever saw were just black and white. I have never seen a human with a dark face like that -- is that common? Or is it just something inherent in the inhabitants of Cloud City? Or is it like the castes of the Twi'lek species -- only specific colors can have specific powers? Or is it--?" Ken was cut off from any more questions when Commander Skywalker, in a somewhat panicked gesture, clapped a hand over Ken's mouth.

Lando, on the other hand, was smiling under that line of hair on his upper lip.

"As long as my reputation precedes me, can't say you've heard anything too bad about me." Ken blinked and almost asked another question, but Commander Skywalker still had a hand firmly over his mouth, "It also explains the new addition to his crew that Han mentioned. Follow me -- the Princess has been kind of anxious for you to get here." Ken almost immediately darted after Lando, but Commander Skywalker held him back a bit.

"Ken, in the future, don't talk to people about their skin color like that. Or, really, at all." He muttered in a voice that only Ken could hear. Blinking, Ken turned to meet Commander Skywalker's gaze, "Trust me."

Ken didn't say anything more, pondering this information as he followed Commander Skywalker and Lando up through the corridors until they came to another door, this one with a little vestibule, then another door behind it.

"Luke! And the pup! 'Bout time you guys showed up." Captain Solo pulled himself off his seat as Lando opened the door. Ken bristled out of knee-jerk reaction and almost protested being called 'pup', but Chip attached himself to Ken's side.

"Master Ken, wherever have you been? It is HIGHLY irregular of you to just disappear, and leaving me behind, on top of that. I was sent with you by Dee-Jay to ensure no harm came to you. What would you do if something happened and I hadn't been there? And furthermore..." Chip started to rant, while Ken attempted to disengage himself from the droid. Captain Solo watched the scene, apparently snickering at Ken's inability to talk over his 'Friend'.

"It's almost like asking what we'd do without Goldenrod around -- we'd never get anything done without his constant pestering." Commander Skywalker, meanwhile, disappeared onto the terrace with his sister – Ken could see them both through the window in deep conversation. Between Chip's lecturing, Captain Solo's snide comments, and Chewbacca's approving barks, Ken couldn't have heard anything, but he wasn't quite as focused on the argument with Chip. Instead, he was focused on Commander Skywalker, wondering what it was that he was discussing with Princess Leia -- Ken caught flashes of worry and anger, but for the most part, the both of them felt... Ken wasn't sure how this was possible, but they felt very focused, as though there were some kind of target drawing them in.

But what would inspire anger, of all things?

* * *

"His GRANDFATHER?" Leia's voice dropped to a whisper as she looked back over her shoulder into the room they had just exited. Luke nodded, not looking at her. Leia frowned at the boy whom Han and Lando had apparently teamed up on bullying -- Ken's face was getting redder with every word that Han said. "...I take it he's not aware of this, himself." Luke shook his head.

"I hope not. At least, not yet -- he'll find out sooner or later, but the way the galaxy is now, I can only imagine how dangerous it would be." Leia followed Luke's gaze -- all she could see was the endless sea of clouds.

"...I never thought the Emperor had children, much less grandchildren... Couldn't this be just a misunderstanding?" Leia finally mumbled, frowning. She remembered meeting Palpatine when she was still young and under her adoptive father's wing -- just the presence he gave off had been so evil and horrifying that she'd been frozen in her shoes. She couldn't imagine any woman in the galaxy not feeling the same way, much less bear him a child, and yet, somehow, someone had. Had it been back in his days as the simple Naboo Senator or even further back -- Leia just couldn't imagine it. Surely, there had to be a mistake.

"The informant used the words 'a direct blood relation to the Emperor'. That only leads me to assume that Ken's alleged father might be the result of some sort of experiment involving the Emperor's genes, not necessarily a real son." Luke mused. Leia cringed, inwardly -- that hadn't been a reassurance she wanted to hear, if only because it meant there was no misunderstanding.

"How can you be sure this informant wasn't just saying something to unnerve you, or just to extract information from you?" Leia finally asked, slipping into interrogation mode. Luke smiled, thinly, as though he'd been waiting for Leia to ask.

"I said the same thing to him -- first off, he told me that he was providing information to spite two other members of the organization whom it would seem he has an agenda against." When Leia scowled at the vague terms, Luke continued, "The leaders -- knowing power structures within the Empire, they most likely abused their authority, which would give subordinates cause to resent them, which would provide motivation for this man to betray information." Luke paused, considering something else, "He also kept quoting... writings, from a thesis or perhaps a code... When I asked him why he was so willingly helping me, of all people, he said... he spoke of a 'Lev' and then a series of numbers after it... nineteen... nineteen, then something else..."

Leia's eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up.

"Lev 19:21." She murmured. Luke didn't reply. "This informant is religious. He's doing this for reasons of faith... which is an even greater indicator that he's sincere..." Leia's tone grew darker and more troubled, "...But what if the information he has is incorrect? What if he doesn't know the truth -- what if it's just rumors that soldiers and agents of the Empire believe to be true, like propaganda?"

Luke's frown turned from puzzling and intrigued to severe.

"Why are you saying things like this? It's like you want it to not be true..." He asked, slowly. Leia looked away, back into the room. Whatever Han had said by now had caused Ken to pat his stomach and head. It just didn't seem possible that a boy his age could possibly be related to the same man who had taken over and almost destroyed the galaxy in the last twenty-some years. Then again, 'Papa' had always shown Leia holocasts of Palpatine's speeches as Senator from Naboo and the Supreme Chancellor. Nobody had thought it possible then, either.

"We need to alert Lady Mothma about this."

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia could have sworn she saw Luke almost lose his balance, but when she turned to see him gaping at her, any trace of it was gone. Instead, he was staring at her with complete and utter shock written across his face.

"Lady Mothma? Over a rumor and the claims of an informant whom you don't trust and whose information you suspect might be flawed, anyway? What makes you think this is anywhere NEAR that important?" Leia had almost forgotten that, buried beneath that Jedi Knight shell, Luke was a naive, too-trusting farm boy.

"Luke, if there are Imperial agents following this boy with the notion that he could bring back the Emperor or whatever they're planning, that's a serious matter. Whether they can manage it doesn't matter -- just by boarding Alliance ships or sleeping in the base, he could lead bounty hunters or probe droids right to us." Leia argued, knowing full well that Luke wouldn't believe her, "And even if that wasn't the case, Lady Mothma would want to know if one of our members was related to the Emperor. Frankly, I think all the troops would have a right to know, too -- I can't imagine they would be too comfortable sharing a bunk or eating at the same table, and they should be allowed some say in it."

"That's exactly why I DON'T want anyone to know about this -- there's so much animosity towards former Imperials and their families that it wouldn't be safe for Ken if the entire base knew and he had no clue what was going on. Besides, he's nothing like the Emperor -- it wouldn't be fair to him if all the adults surrounding him, who he was looking up to for guidance and protection, treated him with prejudices like that in mind."

Leia wheeled on her brother, glaring at him furiously, "How do you KNOW that? How can you be so sure that this boy is really as sweet and innocent as he acts, that it's not a front, or that as soon as you begin training him, he'll start to change? You can't be certain of things like this, and since this is--" Leia snapped, but came to a screeching halt as Luke folded his arms and glared straight at her.

"Sister." It was one word, but so laden with meaning that Leia felt like an utter imbecile for even opening her mouth -- not only that, but a hypocrite, to boot -- and as this was the first time Luke had ever been able to pull THAT on her, Leia decided to succumb with grace.

"...For now -- just for now -- I'll give him the benefit of the doubt." She spoke in a warning tone, "We'll see how things go." Luke visibly relaxed. He did not, however, stop frowning.

"There's something else I learned on Tatooine... something which Han and Lando should also hear." Luke's anxiety was still so painfully clear that Leia could tell automatically it was about her -- something that was going to be even more dangerous than bounty hunters chasing after the alleged grandson of the Emperor that Luke had taken under his wing. Leia let the subject drop and led the way back into Lando's suite. Han stopped what he was doing to look up at them and ask, "What were you two doing out there?"

"Call it a briefing -- now, it's your turn to hear what Luke was doing on Tatooine." Leia replied, sitting back down as Luke made himself comfortable against the wall.

"While I was gathering information in Mos Eisley, the cantina received a very out-of-place visitor -- a Hutt. From what I could hear, he was interested in learning details about the death of Jabba." Luke started. Almost immediately, Ken put his hand into the air.

"So, you just over heard this conversation -- does that not seem suspicious?" He asked. Almost immediately, Han whapped Ken upside the head, disgusted at the idea that Luke would be so stupid.

"It's wasn't quite a conversation -- as soon as he made it inside the cantina, he started bellowing for information and when a bar patron shouted that Jabba was dead, the Hutt threw something and started a brawl. It was impossible to hear anything over the noise, but I'm fairly certain that he wasn't talking with anyone as much as he was taking out his anger on them." Ken's hand went down and his jaw snapped shut. Han, meanwhile, had gone a very ashen color.

"How about who this slug is? Can't imagine any self-respecting Hutt wouldn't know 'bout Jabba kicking over, 'specially since they'd all want in on the investments he left behind. And there's only one Hutt I can think of that'd travel the galaxy just to see him." Han raised an eyebrow. Luke's face also went slightly pale, as though he'd swallowed something large without chewing properly.

"I did hear a nearby Imperial officer -- and a Moff, at that -- address him as 'Zorba', but-"

"KRIFF!" Han brought a fist down on his chair's armrest, swearing so loudly that everyone jumped. Threepio even forgot to rebuke Han for his language, "That's him, alright."

Luke recovered quicker than anyone else in the room -- even Lando had been stunned into momentary muteness, "You know who this is?"

"Jabba's old man. Saw him once during a smuggling run -- he was staying at Jabba's palace and I had the rotten luck to bump into the old gas-bag... did he still have hair and a beard?" Han muttered through clenched teeth. When Luke nodded, Han started up another round of cursing.

"Even worse was that the Moff who addressed him -- a Moff Hissa -- told him about what happened on the sail barge over Carkoon and even knew I was sitting in the cantina. Bounty hunters spotted me almost immediately and chased me out -- we only just barely got off the planet without them noticing, and even then, they could have placed a tracer on us." Luke finished. Lando wasted no time in pulling out a comlink and sending a message to his docking crews to check Luke's X-Wing, and then a second message to the sentinel ships circling Cloud City to be on the lookout and check each ship that arrived.

"More than that, though, if he knows how Jabba died, he's gonna be coming after Leia, and if he knows we're here, we've gotta get off the planet, NOW." Han said, getting to his feet. Chewbacca didn't even wait for Han to say anything before picking up his tools and making for the door.

"But, they will not be here for some time." Ken put in, hand back up in the air as though expecting to be called on, "Zorba's ship is not fast enough for that."

"How'd you know that?" Han demanded as he paused at the door, glowering.

"I saw it. I saw the Hutt ship make it's approach and land in the Mos Eisley docks -- while it was still in flight, it made a different noise than any of the other ships, higher pitched, and it clanked. It even left a cloud-wake, but it was so dark it almost looked like smoke. And when it landed, one of the repulsors was not working, so it was off balance and one of the engines was leaking oil. If that ship is still working, it still could not be working well enough to make the trip from Tatooine to Bespin in any number of days -- it would take at least a week." Han continued to stare, "...I studied ships and how they work back home. That is how I know this."

"You never know, kid." Han said, darkly, "Even the most beaten-up piece of junk can have a few surprises under her hull." In fairness, Han would know what he was talking about -- he'd gotten the Falcon to show off some rather spectacular tricks more than once, even when it had been broken and nothing worked. Leia hid a smile at his warning, before Ken countered,

"Captain Solo." For twelve-years old, he sounded incredibly grown-up, "There was MOLD growing on the hull."

Han's frown lifted.

"Mold?" He clarified.

"Mold. Green, living, breathing mold." Ken repeated. Color started to return to Han's face.

"That'd mean that his ship had to have been grounded for a few weeks if there was something GROWING on it. Then, if he tried to take off, having a mold grow on the hull would weaken the parts, making it more probable to come apart during the engine start-up and it wouldn't be able to withstand the pressure change from exiting atmosphere. Even amateur pilots know that – he'd have to be grounded until repairs could be finished. The only way he'd make it off the planet in once piece is if he sealed the thing up in a plastic bubble and had someone else tow him." With every word, the smug grin on Han's face grew, until Leia stood up.

"That doesn't mean we can relax and forget about it – if they do have someone tracking us, we should get away from Cloud City, take the tracker somewhere else, and then dump it before we proceed to the next base. Otherwise, if this Zorba and his bounty hunters arrive here and discover that we've disappeared, leaving the tracker behind, we put Cloud City and its inhabitants in danger." Leia glanced, however slightly and briefly, in Lando's direction, "We should finish our own repairs and maintenance as quickly as possible, then leave."

Lando's eyebrows raised with every word Leia said.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say it sounded like you were CONCERNED about me..." He said, slowly. Leia shot him a look that could have made a rock shrivel up.

"Who said anything about you?" She asked, meanwhile thinking 'Ah, THIS is why he was being so hospitable', "We should start preparing for departure – we've got no real numbers on how long they'll be delayed or how long our own maintenance will take." Leia left the room, following Chewbacca to the Falcon. At beckoning from Luke, Threepio and Artoo went after her – more because Luke knew Threepio would say something rather tactless in an attempt to be soothing than because he knew Chewbacca and Han would need them for the repairs.

"Tough luck, buddy." Han shrugged, just before he left. He didn't look sorry in the least. Lando shrugged it off as he exited through a different door altogether,

"Master Ken, please do not fidget so." Chip broke the silence to scold Ken, whom was fiddling with the stone he was still wearing around his neck. Luke returned to the terrace outside to think. Leia's reaction had been the last one that Luke had expected – he would have thought she would understand, or at least insist that Ken be told before anyone else. Instead, she all but stated she didn't trust him. Inwardly, Luke couldn't help but wonder if she was planning to tell Han or contact Lady Mothma regardless.

The thought shocked Luke back to his senses. Calming enough to focus, Luke turned his thoughts to Leia, stretching out to feel for his sister in the Force. What he met was a wave of concern, focus, and ripplings of frustration and anger, but they were relaxed, as though she was keeping them in a bottle with a tightly fastened lid and they were yielding to the shape of the bottle. Luke let out a sigh – Leia would keep the secret.

Still, that was no reason to relax. He had to wonder if the bounty hunters and the Imperial officials chasing them knew exactly who they were after, and if they did, what they would do if they caught Ken. Would it ensure his safety, or would they destroy him all the more quickly?

Luke took a few more deep breaths – Bespin's air had a foul smell to it, and it tasted sour in Luke's mouth when he breathed out, but there was still enough oxygen to make it breathable. Trying to think calmly, Luke stretched out, once more, feeling up into the sky and space beyond it. He could sense the presence of something malicious and angry and hungry for bloodshed, but it was faint. Still, Luke wasn't sure if that was a sense of how far away it was or how strong the hatred was. He'd never tried to extend his senses to a presence outside a star system without a particular person in mind, so he was just getting a very, very general feeling of something far away. But was it a single person, or a group of people with a similar mindset? Was it not as far away as Luke anticipated, or was it just such a powerful, evil malevolence that it stretched all the way across the galaxy? Luke didn't know, and he couldn't be sure.

"Commander Skywalker, what are- OW!" Luke jumped and came back to his senses, just in time to turn around and see Ken with both hands over his nose and reeling back on the other side of the door. Luke stopped his amusement from showing as Ken paused long enough to open the door this time before trying to step beyond it, "What are you doing out here? Is there something wrong?"

Ken still hand one hand over his nose, but Luke didn't see any blood coming from it, so he must have been alright. At the same time, the injury didn't seem to be any source of Ken's concerns – he was entirely focused on Luke, staring up at him with that combination of awe and concern that Luke was slowly getting used to. Inwardly, Luke had a feeling that Ken could sense Luke's disquiet without even trying, but he wasn't sure if that was reassuring or uneasy.

"Just nervous." Luke lied. Ken frowned a little.

"You are doing a good job so far." Ken said. When Luke's eloquent response was 'Huh?', Ken continued, "As my Master. I feel like I have learned a lot more from you in just a few days than I did from Dee-Jay in years, and when I told Chip about what happened on Tatooine, even HE said that you were doing a good job, and Chip NEVER says anybody does a good job with me." Luke must have continued to look puzzled, because Ken continued, in his usual breathless rate, "Since you were standing out here thinking for so long, I thought it must have been something serious, and I could tell you were worried about me – I couldn't figure out for what reason though, but it felt almost like you were worried about protecting me or something... whenever someone feels that way about someone, I get this image of that person wanting a kind of bubble or shield around the other person, and that's what you felt like, just a few minutes ago. Actually, that's what you and Captain Solo and Baron Calrissian felt like about Princess Leia back when you were talking about the bounty hunters and the Hutt, except Captain Solo's shield felt like it had a lot of weapons on it and like it was shaped like the Millenium Falcon. Weird, huh? Anyway, since I could tell that is what you were thinking about, I thought I should tell you that you do not need to be worried – you are doing a good job, so far."

Luke put a hand on Ken's head and the stream of words stopped, instantaneously.

Before Ken could start talking again, Luke changed the subject by asking what kind of nonsense Han and Lando had been corrupting the boy with, at which point, Ken gladly jabbered about some game Captain Solo had taught him called 'Tig'. Luke made a mental note to 'Thank' Han, particularly for the rule 'If you want to tag Chewie, you've gotta stand on your head and run around the room three times'.

* * *

Of all the employers Tibor had worked for over the years, he had always made a point to avoid the Desilijic dynasty. Wealth or no wealth, he had always decided they were just not worth the trouble. Now, he was being thoroughly reminded why he had thought that. Zorba was, without question, the nastiest, most insane creature to ever commandeer a spaceship. After one look at the moldy hull, leaking engines, cracked screens, and other numerous malfunctioning disasters of the Zorba Express, the maintenance droid in charge of the Mos Eisley spaceport ships and all their exports had called pit droids to scrap the thing. Zorba's reaction had been to seize a blaster straight out of Tibor's arms and open fire on the pit droids and their commanding superior.

"Perhaps you would find the scope useful." Tibor pointed out as a majority of Zorba's shots missed the droids and hit the walls of the port or sometimes his own ship. Still, with the number of charges he was firing off, there were a fair number of droids taken down by sheer, dumb luck.

Zorba spat at Tibor, a wad of saliva almost hitting the Barabel in the eye.

:"I will decide how to deal with this scum.": The pit droids continued to scramble around the dugout, the occasional droid leaping up and catching some part of the Zorba Express and yanking it off -- if it had been living beings instead of droids doing the jumping and yanking, Tibor almost would have sworn they were taking a kind of perverse delight in it. Of course, as it was pit droids, the most any of them seemed to be enjoying was the fact that they were doing their job while dodging blaster bolts and jeering at the holder of the gun. Completely consumed by his rage at their antics, Zorba let the blaster fall to the ground and went chasing after the droids, his stubby little arms flailing around like a living tornado and wrecking anything they touched. The pit droids scattered, climbing over the ship and tearing it apart as they did so, while Zorba went after the sole droid who remained on the ground.

Tibor, meanwhile, remained behind and watched with great interest as a droid perched at the top of the ship tore open one of the compartments and found a large welder. Why a Hutt like Zorba would have a welding gun on his ship was anyone's guess, but the pit droid was having a grand old time with it, particularly as it started the gun and pointed it straight at the Zorba Express, melting the metal plates of the hull until they dripped down over the sides and stuck together.

Zorba quickly remedied the problem by flinging the broken droid from the ground at his ship and sending all the other pit droids scattering. The droid with the welder tossed it to the next one, which started working damage on the sides, cackling with delight as it found a switch that raised the flame from a precision welding tool to a mass-effect blowtorch. The entire left side of the Zorba Express turned white with the heat before Zorba finally caught up with the droid and smashed it to pieces.

Mechanic and ship-building expert, Tibor was not, he still could tell that the damage was done on the ship. The original shape of a bell was barely retained as the hull pieces had melted into the shape of a rock with a particularly pyramid-esque shape and when Tibor flicked his tongue out into the air, he could smell the burning rubber and disintegrating wire of the insides of the ship. The only piece of the hull that hadn't been welded together was the large, round door of the ship, and even that was in serious need of oiling before it could open large enough to accommodate a Hutt.

Zorba cursed for several long moments in Huttese before Tibor finally ventured inside. The interiors were ruined from the intense heat, all of the systems were offline, and some of the rooms on the left side had bent and buckled out of shape until they were no longer fit to put anything inside. Tibor oiled the rims of the ship's door until it spiraled open and Zorba squeezed inside, and even then, the ship made an ungodly screeching and hissing as it did so that Tibor suspected the ship's power reserves were either running out or being conducted into usable energy so poorly that nothing would work.

The next few minutes of searching the ship proved that guess to be accurate – the only thing that worked to even resembling proper function were the shields. Even worse, all the power lines were now running currents through the iron-based alloy that made up a majority of the Zorba Express' melted hull, and the end result was that half the ship was now, in effect, a giant electromagnet. The few working machines and systems on board the Zorba Express were rendered useless as the engine fired up and the magnetic field scrambled their programming.

Tibor was beginning to wonder if he had been wise to even consider the job – sure, Zorba had offered to pay any bounty hunter who could capture this 'Princess Leia' enough money to roll around in for the rest of his life, but if this old slug couldn't even find a properly operating ship, then what were the chances he even HAD the money he had boasted to pay – when Zorba surprised him with a wide, toothless smile. It was singularly unpleasant to behold.

:"There's a way off of this planet that nobody even suspects.": He gloated, before wriggling down the ramp again and to the nearest dataport. Tibor followed and didn't hesitate when Zorba told him to slice into the computer system and find a particular ship. Again, Tibor was no slicer, but he did know the mechanical basics that would deactivate all the firewalls and protections in the programming. From there, Zorba took over again and found what he wanted – Tibor immediately recognized the ship of those two women at the cantina whom Zorba had decided to follow. It was the streamlined shape of a slug, the engines in four projecting cones from the head and a windshield on the tail. There were two trailing appendages from up top – Tibor supposed they were cannons or some other useful tool – and an exhaust port in a dip in the center of all the engines.

Zorba's next move was to pull in a few rontos whose jawa owners had stepped away from for just a few minutes. A few words in Huttese, and Tibor immediately understood Zorba's intentions to lash the beasts to the dead weight of his ship and haul it to docking bay 27. What he didn't understand was what Zorba planned to do, there. He doubted the smuggler and her mate or whoever the woman had been would offer them a ride, and Hutts were known for their backstabbing, cutthroat ways – no matter what Zorba told them, they wouldn't cave and they'd defend their ship at all costs.

As it was, Zorba wasn't interested in pleading or trying to hide on board. The rontos were turned loose as soon as Zorba positioned his ship right between the two lower engines and the Hutt took it upon himself to crawl back into the ship through the giant door that faced outward. The next moment, the engines cranked to life with a noisy sputtering and the ship lifted off the ground – not because of any repulsor action by the engines, but as the magnetic force yanked the Zorba Express off it's landing gear and cemented it against the heavy steel shielding between the two engines of the smuggler's ship.

Then, the engines stopped whirring. The Zorba Express remained wedged on the smuggling vessel. Tibor bounded up and scaled the outer surface as he crawled for the door. It opened with Zorba at the top of the ramp, laughing a great, bellowing laugh that echoed off of the metal and stone of the docking bay.

:"Not only will they lead us to Cloud City, they will take us there with their own two hands.":

* * *

Mehgan started up at the noise – she could have been mistaken, but it had sounded an awful lot like an engine revving and some kind of avalanche. Her head was killing her, yet again and her mouth and throat, all the way down to her stomach, felt so dry that she could have gotten water from eating sand.

She was, therefore, thankful that Kaoln's ship had a ready supply of water. After the fifth glass, Mehgan went in search of her self-appointed apprentice. Kaoln was in the cockpit, steering their way through the heavy gases of the Minos Cluster.

"Doesn't seem like the safest route to take." Mehgan commented, mildly, as she sat down in the co-pilot's seat.

"Safer than taking the route to Corellia, then back down to Bespin – you have any idea how many Imp ships are comin' on that route? This way, we'll be to Bepsin in two, three days tops. Besides, if anyone's tailin' us, we have a good chance of losin' 'em in this space dust – Imps are either too cowardly to try tailin' cuz they don't wanna risk gettin' blasted to pieces by debris, or they're too stupid to think they'll make it." Kaoln explained. As she spoke, she carefully avoided a large, jagged piece of metal that had almost clipped their windshield.

Mehgan took a deep breath through her nose and let it out through her mouth. Doing so made her sinuses hurt, but she could center herself on it. As she relaxed and concentrated, something nagged on the edge of her senses– the sense of something sinister, something that was wickedly gleeful, and she could have sworn she heard something cackling in the darkness of space.

"Kaoln, I think we're being followed, regardless of your fancy maneuvers." She noted. Kaoln frowned and tapped her screen.

"I get no reading; are you sure?" She asked. Mehgan wrinkled her nose.

"Try looking with something OTHER than your eyes." She pointed out, sarcastically. Kaoln gave her the best disgusted look she could – one that Mehgan had only seen before on Kendalina's face – and started to mimic the breathing rhythms Mehgan had been using a moment ago. Kaoln's eyes opened.

"Sure you're not just imaginin' it? I don't feel nothin'." Kaoln asked. Mehgan frowned and concentrated again – the presence came quicker this time, stronger, and more defined.

"It feels almost like they're right on our tail, but they're surrounded by a cloak to hide. It's an angry feeling, but they're happy to be angry, and it's using that anger to fuel themselves, to come closer and creep up on us. Let me take the controls for awhile – you focus on finding them."

Kaoln tried to swat Mehgan's hands away, but eventually had to relent and took the co-pilot's seat, eyes closed and her energies focused. Mehgan devoted her focus to the path forward, picking out the clean, uncluttered path through invisible chunks of rock, ice, and other debris that floated freely in the vacuum of space.

"...Eh... okay... I can KINDA see what you were talking about..." Kaoln finally spoke up after what felt like hours. Mehgan glanced slightly over, but quickly returned her eyes to their path, "...It DOES feel like someone's following us... but I don't really get any animosity or specific feelings off of it... it's just THERE." Kaoln got out of her chair and left the cabin. Mehgan turned to stare after her and almost contemplated going after her, but stayed in the pilot's chair. After a few minutes, Kaoln returned, anyway.

"All of our visuals from the rear view are offline. Whatever's followin' us is also jamming our equipment, so our rearguard cannons and shields are probably offline, too." Kaoln explained, going under the dashboard with something like consternation.

"So, what's your idea?" Mehgan asked, trying to keep her hands steady. Kaoln didn't answer right away, but when she did, it wasn't terribly helpful.

"You just keep us from crashin' – just leave me an' the ship here to do the hard work." Kaoln called. Mehgan almost commented about how 'keeping the ship from crashing' was, technically, the harder work, but Kaoln called up, "Jes' imagine you're rescuin' Master Orewahime from her evil stepmother or whatever again."

'Great. No pressure.' Mehgan thought. Kaoln slid out from under the dashboard and clasped the cover back over it.

"Alright. Let's see how they like THIS." Kaoln reached out and put her hand on a lever marked 'Dump'. Mehgan watched, suspiciously.

"What, precisely, are you planning on doing?" She demanded. Kaoln smirked.

"A ship like this always has some garbage to dump. Most smugglers will dump all their wastes on landing to give them less weight and a slight speed advantage. Gwen an' me, on the other hand, usually save all of our wastes until we absolutely hafta flush it. That way, if someone tries an assault on our rear port, we have an extra trick to toss at them."

"Toss... was that a pun?" She asked, frowning. Kaoln smiled as innocently as she possibly could.

"Pun? What pun?" And then, she pulled the lever, "Our dump is right in the center of our engines, so the angle of the release should send it out in kind of a net and hit pretty much anything following us." Mehgan frowned, but kept her eyes on their course, "Y'know, kinda like how skunks spray when something gets too close."

Mehgan wasn't entirely convinced, especially as she closed her eyes and focused again, only to find the sense of something following them wasn't even slightly dissipated – if anything, it seemed stronger.

"It didn't work." She said, eyes opening again. Kaoln swore and went under the dashboard again, then popped out and went for the back of the ship. Mehgan breathed slowly and tried to calm herself down, still keeping focused on flying, but her thoughts starting to stray back to Kaoln.

"Okay – if this works right, this should at least stop the jamming and we should figure out what's on our back." Kaoln announced as she came back around the corner and dropped into the copilot's chair, again. Mehgan shot her a look, but said nothing as Kaoln fiddled with controls on the panel, "Master Retaw, I need you to find a clear shot that'll at least give us a few hundred kilometers of free space to shoot into."

Mehgan's concern shifted to alarm as she turned to stare at Kaoln.

"Are you planning on making a hyperspace jump in THIS?" She gestured to the gas and dust outside their ship. Kaoln shook her head, still fiddling with controls until she finally got everything to the right settings.

"Nope – we just need to put on a quick boost of speed. By quick, I mean like, three seconds, max. Still, that can take us pretty far at the right speed. What I've done is loaded up some compost burnables in the engines – once we release them into the engines, it'll produce a really nasty byproduct containing a lot of sulfurs and chlorides, which will then bond with the gases in this cloud and produce heavy acids that'll ruin whatever ships come after us. Because the effects will be so corrosive, we'll need to put on some serious speed to make sure our own asses don't get toasted – besides, the extra heat will make some of the wastes combust, which'll put extra damage on those suckers, and could bite us back if we don't haul it."

Mehgan didn't argue this time, instead focusing on finding just the right path – and she did. It was a straight, wide band of strict carbon that would come in a few seconds, just as soon as the piece of meteorite drifted out of the way. They'd have to keep their shields up, but it would fit the bill. Kaoln, already sensing this, had the shields up and with a single switch, upped their resistance to cut down on friction from the gas.

"Almost... Mehgan breathed, feeling out how the seconds were counting down until the path would be clear. Kaoln's hand was over the button, ready to press it the second Mehgan gunned the engines. Two seconds... one second...

Kaoln's fingers slipped and hit the button, just long enough for Mehgan to realize it was to soon, but she didn't have a chance to shout – the path was clear. Instead, she hit the accelerator and shot forward. The ship shook and rattled and the floor vibrated as Kaoln jumped up, losing her balance and swearing. Mehgan pulled back and threw the repulsors in reverse to soften their decceleration, but Kaoln was already back on her feet and running through the ship's halls to survey the damage. Mehgan took a deep breath, her heart still battering away at her ribcage, before she concentrated again and stretched out to feel for any sign of an enemy ship on their tail.

"FUCK!" Kaoln shouted from the back of the ship. Mehgan groaned – both because she knew Kaoln's shouting couldn't be a good sign, and because that malevolent presence was still right on top of them, "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, MOTHERFUCKING, SON OF A WHORE!" Mehgan concurred.

"Kaoln, would you mind using more specific words in your descriptive vocabulary?" She called over her shoulder. The thundering sound of Kaoln's running footsteps announced exactly how bad it was.

"Half of our northeast engine is disintegrated clean off and we've got scorching all over the back panels – probably even a breach in the outer hull. Keep us steady and don't accelerate at all until I'm finished with it."

Mehgan concentrated on the ship again, the image in her mind taking the form of two hands enveloping the ship and keeping everything together and all the other elements of space from colliding with the hull. Now, it was just a matter of waiting until Kaoln was finished, all while they drifted through the Elrood Sector, slowly making their way to Bespin.

* * *

"Almost good to go?" Han called to Chewbacca through the hull. He heard a responding growl that only meant 'Affirmative'. More than pleased with how quickly the repairs had taken — only a day and a half from being the half-finished they'd been when Luke arrived, record time for such serious problems and a personal best for the Falcon -- Han dropped down to the floor of the landing bay and wiped the grime from his hands on his pants. Lando was waiting by the doorway to the hangar, appreciatively looking over the newly repaired ship with something almost like longing, or almost nostalgia.

"Han, old buddy, you keep getting into the worst kinds of trouble known to man. I'm amazed this old girl hasn't run out on you, yet." He mused, eyes running over some of the old scratches that seemed to gleam even brighter than they had before the repairs. Han masked a glare.

"Ships don't run out on you, pal -- you run out on them." He shot back, still keeping his tone mild enough that it didn't really sound like a shot.

"Luck does." Lando replied with a wise shrug, "And so do women." This time, Han didn't disguise his glare or his tone.

"Hey! Watch it!" Leia had been right -- Lando HAD had another reason for offering to help them, this time. Unlike all of the other possibilities, however, Han was liking this other reason even less with every second that passed. Lando let the subject drop as he started on more business-like matters.

"I've got the patrols looking out for Hutt ships and any Imperial fighters -- even if they do get here early, we'll know to hide her Highness until we can find a way off." Lando mused, still looking over the Falcon as though to spot any mistakes his technicians might have made.

"Yeah? You run that plan by Leia yet?" Han asked, inwardly cackling with glee at the argument that he knew would ensue if Lando even thought of proposing the idea. Lando shrugged.

"She's a smart lady -- she's probably got the same idea to at least not walk right into their hands." He countered. Han pulled a face.

"At least not without a fully loaded blaster." He still had to agree on that point, before his curiosity finally got the better of him, "Why'd you REALLY offer to help us out? Leia thinks you're planning another trap for us this time around." Lando at least had the grace to look guilty, but recovered with a casual gesture to the Falcon.

"I owed you -- I'm the one who got her scratched up last time, so I figured..." And he trailed off with a shrug. Han frowned, but figured it might have been too much to ask for Lando to tell him the absolute truth.

"Thanks." Han muttered, managing not to sound grateful at all. Lando didn't reply -- his comlink was alerting him to an incoming message.

"Calrissian." The com crackled, but Han could hear a voice on the other end.

"Sir, we've spotted a ship entering through Zone A-34. It appears to be a smuggler's ship, but seriously damaged, trying to request landing permission." Han signaled to Chewbacca in the cockpit, who waved back then started running tests to ensure the ship's operation.

"Is it hostile?"

"Not outwardly, sir, but our scanners have detected a massive outpouring of electrical currents into it's hull and shielding. Besides, there's something stuck between two of it's engines -- some of the pilots suspect it's a bomb of some sort."

Han looked over his shoulder to see Lando frowning. For once, he didn't blame him.

"Escort the ship to a secure dock as far away from any of the City's essential systems and residents as possible and keep it locked down. I'm on my way with security." Lando switched off his comlink, then strode out, saluting to Han over his shoulder.

"Duty calls." He explained, as though Han hadn't heard the whole thing. Han saluted back, then turned to work on the Falcon -- he'd just gotten it back together again, he wasn't gonna be too happy if some nut with a bomb tore it back up.

* * *

Two days had passed peacefully -- too peacefully for Luke's liking -- since he and Ken had arrived on Bespin. Word from Han was that the Falcon was working again, and Leia had managed to get in contact with the Alliance Council and find the coordinates for the next base. Cloud City's maintenance crews had checked on Luke's X-Wing -- his fear that someone might have put a tracker on it proved to be completely false and everything was still working fine -- and Artoo was fine-tuned and updated his memory storage banks with useful information on the neighboring systems in case Luke needed to grab Ken and run for it, again. While Luke spent the last forty-eight hours worrying over this sense of foreboding that was coming after them, Ken had enjoyed himself immensely by exploring Cloud City under Chip's watchful eye.

"Commander Skywalker, are you absolutely sure that everything is alright? I have not seen you smile since we left Tatooine." This had been the one thing Ken had asked every five minutes for the last two days, which was why Luke had been trying to keep the boy occupied.

"It's adult problems, Ken. You wouldn't understand and you don't need to worry about it, yet." Luke replied for the umpteenth time. Like all the other times before, Ken was silent for a long time afterward.

"...Being chased by bounty hunters and other people who want to kill you is a pretty adult thing, and I understand that. Maybe I could understand whatever is bothering you, too." Luke hadn't expected a rebuttal that well phrased. It was fairly correct, too, since Luke found himself hard pressed to find a way to tell the boy he was wrong.

"I just really don't want to talk about it." Luke finally settled for. Ken drooped and Luke turned the conversation back onto their training. The reason they were down in the docks was for the purpose of teaching Ken about levitation -- Luke had been struck by an inspiring dream from Yoda last night, and the thought had occurred to him, what better way to teach an apprentice than as Yoda had taught him. More than anything, it would be a lesson in discipline and belief than about any specific power. The theory that Luke had come up with was, if Ken could manage to lift a ship off the ground, move it, and then set it back down, gently, in the same spot, he could theoretically master any other Force technique.

So far, Ken hadn't made any ship move -- not a centimeter.

"Now, this isn't just a matter of thinking about something and-" Luke snapped his fingers, "-It magically happens. You have to focus on what you're doing, stretch out into the Force and concentrate. You have to not only imagine this can happen, but really, really believe that you can do it." Luke stopped talking as he noticed Ken was watching him, intensely hanging onto his words. Luke had the sneaking suspicion that Ken wasn't so much as listening as he was watching Luke talk. Luke sighed.

"Here, let's see you do it." He pointed to a large fighter ship with the Cloud City insignia on it's hull. Ken gaped up at the ship, then closed his mouth, swallowed hard, and stretched his hand out, a comically determined look on his face. Luke saw Ken narrow his eyes until he finally closed them, his cheeks and forehead turning red, then purple as he held his breath, only occasionally gasping for air when he remembered that he needed it. The ship didn't move -- it didn't even budge. After ten minutes of it, Luke finally told Ken to stop, more because he was worried the boy would pass out from any more of that holding his breath and gasping for air business and because it had been driving Luke crazy to listen to it.

"I am sorry -- I thought I was doing it right, I must not have been focusing hard enough. Maybe I should..." Luke stopped Ken from rambling with a firm hand on his forehead.

"Relax." Ken blinked for a few moments before he realized Luke had finished the sentence for him, "You're doing to much 'trying' and not enough doing, if you know what I mean." Ken frowned, but it disappeared quickly as the boy seemed to understand easily enough. "For starters, breathe naturally -- in through the nose, out through the mouth -- and keep it even, instead of heaving. Just think about what's happening, concentrate on it, and feel the Force flowing through you." Ken listened with the same intensity as he had before, then closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and started all over again.

About two hours of doing this passed and Ken finally sat down. As though it were a cement fixture as part of the floor, the ship had stubbornly refused to budge, not the tiniest, most microscopic bit. Luke stopped himself from frowning or sighing, as he could tell Ken was holding back from a great deal of that, and more. The boy's fists were balled up, but stationary at his sides, his arms shook, but didn't strike out, his cheeks filled with air, but he didn't shout. It didn't take a Jedi Knight or even an expert on Human emotions to know that Ken was frustrated and upset. Luke reached down and put a hand on Ken's shoulder.

"Don't hurt yourself -- you still need to breathe." It was the best he could think of -- he didn't want to lie and say Ken had been doing a good job when it was obvious he hadn't, but he still knew better than to say 'You just need to try harder' when it would be empty advice at best. Ken started breathing and moving again, as the first thing he did was slam his fist down onto the floor.

"Why can I not do it? What is so different about me that you can do this and I cannot? I thought I believed, I thought I was concentrating, what am I doing wrong?" Luke opened his mouth to answer Ken, before a thought struck him. Ken had said that Luke could do 'this' but that he, Ken, could not. That... wasn't entirely true.

"Ken, come over here." Luke strode over to the ship and put a hand against the landing gear. Ken looked up, eyes and cheeks red with frustration, but he got to his feet and stumbled over to where Luke was standing. Luke patted on the steel of the ship's landing leg, "I want you to put your hands right here and push as hard as you can." Ken frowned for a moment, but put his hands right where Luke had indicated, "Go on -- give it a shove."

Ken braced himself and pushed, face going red again as he breathed heavily and strained with all his might. Again, the ship didn't move, but Luke stopped Ken before he could sprain a muscle.

"Now, watch me." Luke cracked his knuckles and flexed his arms and then, putting his hands on the exact same spot and bracing his legs the same way, heaved as hard as he could against the ship. Just as with Ken, the ship didn't move or bent or even creak against the weight. After a minute of straining and pushing, Luke stopped, panting, shaking his hands from the soreness and sweatiness. Ken continued to frown.

"There IS no difference." Luke said, straightening up, "Neither you nor I could push this alone. The Force is our ally -- we may command it, yes, but it is the one who will do what you say. It's not about what we can do alone -- it's what we can do with our allies. If a whole crowd of people came in and, together, pushed on this ship, it would, without a doubt, move. If that same crowd of people piled up as a team and everyone did their share and coordinated correctly, they could just as easily pick it up."

Ken's frown grew lighter and lighter, an understanding beginning to shine on his face. Luke felt himself start to smile; he was more certain than ever that Ken would be able to do it on the next turn.

That was when the comlink buzzed.

* * *

Zorba and Tibor disembarked from the Zorba express with less stealth than Tibor would have liked. Zorba had really more flopped down the ramp and landed with heavy thud on the concrete floor of the docking bay. Tibor came after him as quickly as possible -- much more gracefully as he was on all fours and climbing down -- but he had to duck out of the way as numerous guards jumped out from all sorts of little hidey-holes and began firing on Zorba. Tibor sissed quietly to himself as he hid inside one of the engine cones -- these amateurs had obviously never dealt with a Hutt.

Zorba waddled through the barrage of fire bursts, completely uncaring when one hit his wrinkled old hide. The blasts left black scorch marks, but did no damage whatsoever, and Zorba didn't even seem to feel them. Instead, he went straight for the guards, fists driving forward and knocking out the first few guards he came into contact with. The rest were smarter and started their retreat, disappearing through the doors and sealing them shut. Only one port was left, guarded by two heavily armed guards who, Tibor could tell, were plainly terrified of the Hutt. Tibor slithered out from his hiding place and bolted for the closing doors, prising them open with the raw strength of a Barabel and just as swiftly and lethally ramming the two guards with his tail, crushing the windpipe of one and breaking the jugular of the other so that a large, black and purple bruise sprouted instantly on the man's neck. Both of them fell to the floor, deader than the hairs on their heads.

Zorba chuckled as he slid in through the door, gliding down the passageway. Tibor clambered after him as Zorba announced that their next destination was the casino.

Dalhouise remained carefully back in the shadows as Baron Calrissian swept through the door with an extra legion of guards and two medical specialists. Immediately, the medics dropped to examine the unconscious guards while the new squad lined up in attack formation and aimed their guns at the woman coming down the landing platform. Dalhouise recognized her -- her dark, black skin and mangled Jedi robes were a dead giveaway of an old relative's former apprentice.

"HEY! You can't point those things at a lady!" She shouted, not even bothering to put her hands up. Baron Calrissian stepped forward, hands hidden under that elaborate cloak of his along with a number of hidden blasters, Dalhouise was sure. Kaoln glared at him as only she could with twenty blasters pointed at her head.

"We have several injured guards, two dead, and your ship is at the epicenter of it all. That's enough that you're lucky they didn't fire on sight." He told her. Dalhouise could only sneer as he heard that -- Calrissian didn't know Kaoln or else he'd know that it was more lucky for the guards that they didn't fire.

"Sir, with all due respect... sir..." One of the concussed soldiers had stumbled back to his feet -- apparently he wasn't as concussed as he'd seemed -- and then leaned on the shoulder of one of the medics. Calrissian turned to face him.

"What's your report, Gray?" He asked. The guard managed to salute as best he could.

"With all due respect, sir, there were stowaways on the ship. A Hutt and a Barabel, sir. The Hutt attacked all of us and the Barabel killed the two guards inside the lock, sir. They're headed for the Holiday Towers Casino, sir." Calrissian visibly relaxed, then turned to Kaoln.

"In that case, my apologies -- I'm the Baron Ad-"

"-Ministrator Lando Calrissian, governor of Cloud City, one-time smuggler and owner of the Millenium Falcon, and, according to word on the street, a big-shot ladies man but if you dress like that, I'm starting to doubt it." Kaoln side-stepped Calrissian and made her way to the back port of the ship. Calrissian, not being a stupid man, recognized when he was dismissed and gracefully turned to the injured guard who was giving an accurate report of the situation.

"MOTHERFUCKING GODDAMMIT ALL!" Kaoln shouted as she pounded on the hull of her own ship with her bare fists, then called towards the front of the ship, "Master Retaw, you were right -- we were hijacked."

Dalhouise's eyes went very wide as Master Retaw's head poked out from the door before the woman herself exited. Why the nine hells was SHE here?

"Kaoln, you don't need to say 'You were right' as though it was a big shock to you -- you should have known just as well as I did." Master Retaw scolded, putting her hands firmly on her hips. Dalhouise hadn't noticed last time, but Master Retaw's curves had grown -- painfully, it almost seemed. That, and she had to be at least two-hundred centimeters tall.

"But I DIDN'T -- that's not MY fault, either." Kaoln argued back, "And either way, we've got this sucker stuck between our engines -- it's gonna be such a bitch to pry out, we might as well get a new ship."

Master Retaw sauntered over -- was she wearing heels? Of all the impractical fashions, Dalhouise had never understood why the women in his family had worn them, or why Master Retaw seemed to have picked up the habit. On the other hand, if they helped the wearer from developing flat feet, served as a sort of brass knuckles for their kicks, and gave a few extra centimeters to height, that might have been something of a redeeming quality. Even the famed spies, Mara Jade and 'Targeter', had been known to employ parts of their feminine disguises as lethal weapons.

"Kaoln." She scolded, again, "Are you a Jedi or not?"

Calrissian, to his credit, had disappeared with his guard, leaving only three guards behind just in case. They seemed more interested in watching the hot catfight than in protecting the two ladies, or protecting their city FROM them, whichever that 'just in case' had been. Kaoln, meanwhile, put her hands on her hips and huffed, stepping out of the way for Master Retaw to crawl up the engines and examine the Hutt ship stuck between them. After a moment, she drew back her fist and punched a dent right into the middle of the ship so deep that her arm disappeared up to her elbow. The Hutt ship creaked and groaned and tipped, but remained stuck.

"Master Retaw..." Kaoln called, "...Have you ever heard of taking your own advice?" Master Retaw glared, cooly, back down at Kaoln.

"Have you?"

"...Y'know, this other side looks like a big dent would do just the trick."

Dalhouise dropped three of his knives straight down onto the guards' heads. Kaoln whipped around and had a blaster out, pointed straight at him and three blasts fired before he could even blink.

That was why he'd brought backup – she blinked a lot less frequently. Kaoln's blasts were deflected to the right without a second thought. Master Retaw jumped out from where she'd been demolishing the Zorba Express enough to dislodge it – the entire ship was actually crumpled up in a ball and tucked under her arm like a giant wad of aluminum foil. Dalhouise slid out from hiding, standing on the wall like a giant fly.

"What are YOU doing here?" Master Retaw shouted in a furious and horrified voice. Dalhouise coolly looked down his nose at her.

"Of all the questions you pick, it's the one I have for you." He commented. Kaoln aimed her blaster again. Dalhouise didn't care.

"Cut the crap. Every time you've shown up, something BAD happens, so what're you after THIS time?" She demanded. Dalhouise glared scornfully down at her.

"My motives haven't changed in the slightest – if you as Master Retaw, I'm sure she will inform you of THOSE..." Kaoln spat out a mouthful of brown saliva. Dalhouise delicately wrinkled his nose, despite the fact that he couldn't smell it from his position on the wall.

"She also told me all 'bout yer theatrics. What happened to the freezing cold wind an' ice – did someone get the sniffles?" Kaoln sneered. Dalhouise considered taking her taunt as an invitation, but decided against it. For all he knew, Kaoln and Master Retaw had plotted something that used his weather manipulation powers against him. Besides, he wasn't here to fight.

"Please. That would alert the whole city I was here and make it harder for me to get my job done." Master Retaw dropped the crumpled ball of the ruined Zorba Express on the floor. The noise was immense, only doubled by the echoes.

"Kaoln, you go for the upper levels of the city – I'll take the underside." Dalhouise disappeared back into his hiding space, slipping through the cracks in the construction, "He's after Kendal."

Dalhouise landed on his feet on the other side of the wall. His backup landed beside him.

"Well, that wasn't my intention, but since we're here and might not see Kendal for a while after this, we might as well say 'Hello'."

* * *

Every head in the casino turned as Lando swept through the doors. The only two figures following him were Lobot and one of the guards – the others, he'd sent through the security hatches throughout the gambling lounges, just in case the Hutt and Barabel tried to escape. All of the guests visibly relaxed as they saw Lando striding through the various tables and machines toward the Sabacc tables. The enormous Hutt was visible from all the way across the room and if visibility didn't give him away, the stench did.

It was definitely Zorba – Lando'd never met the old slug personally, but he'd heard rumors about whenever a slave hadn't served Zorba exactly to his liking or as quickly as he'd wanted to be served, he would bash the being to death, then have their hair scalped and inserted into his own flesh like a trophy.

The Hutt at the Sabacc tables was cursing and flinging credit chips and gesturing threateningly at any being who got close enough to incur his wrath. Lando signaled to his guard and sent Lobot in the direction of the nearest computer terminal. If the account from Private Gray had been any indicator of Zorba's vulnerability, regular blasters weren't going to be of any use, in which case, Lando wanted the emergency water sprayers and fire extinguishers to be ready at a moment's notice – Han had taught Lando a few things about improvising. Under his cloak, Lando readied a bulb of concentrated acid and loaded it into his blaster. He didn't care if it was paranoid: he was taking no chances with Jabba the Hutt's old man.

"Hello, I'm Governor Calrissian – I was told someone at this table had a complaint to register with me." Lando had, indeed, received such a complaint, just as he was coming down the elevator shaft. As Zorba was the only player who didn't abandon the table the moment Lando arrived, he was fairly confident that it had been Zorba's 'complaint'. Zorba spat at Lando and the Barabel rose, however slightly, from his seat.

"My employer just wants to inform you that your sabacc droids are dealing marked cards – every round we've been at this table for, he's lost every hand, and so have the others." Lando frowned at the Barabel. It was the first time he'd heard an alien like him speak such flawless basic, let alone speak so eloquently. Generally speaking, Barabels spoke with a distinct accent and NEVER used such formal language. What was their game?

"I'm not going to try and excuse any cheating that HAS taken place, but I'd like to see these marked cards before making any reparations – if possible, I might be able to find who put this deck in the shooter." Lando offered in Huttese – he knew there wasn't a chance it would work, but it would stall for time. And the more time he bought, the more time Lobot would have to get the message to Han to get the hell out of dodge.

As expected, the Hutt angrily shot his fist out at Lando. Ever on his toes, Lando jumped backwards and Zorba's fist missed him by at least five centimeters. If there was any truth to those rumors of poorly trained slaves finding their hair on their Master's head, Lando had no intention of finding out.

"I don't want to hear about any of that – just change the decks before I start any more rounds." Zorba squalled. Lando had his hands up, but his loaded blaster in one of them – a sign of not wanting to fight, but at the same time, sending the message that he could if push came to shove. Zorba's ugly yellow eyeballs shifted to the blaster, then to Lando.

"Hey, hey there..." Lando dropped his voice and slipped into a more formal dialect of Huttese, "...I'm not here to argue or antagonize anyone. I've just got a business to run and arguments like these ruin it for the other customers, but I've got an idea to make this work for both of us." Zorba put his fist down on the table and narrowed his eyes at Lando. This was encouraging – at least it meant Lando had gotten the slug's attention, "Now, normally, if someone started a big fight in the casino, NORMALLY... normally, the patrols would have to make an arrest and put him in a cell at headquarters for the night. HOWEVER, since I can tell you've been mistreated here today, I'll cut you a deal. You see, I'm a gambling man and a fair sport, so..." Lando seated himself across from Zorba, "I'm willing to settle this over a hand of sabacc, no chips, no money, just the cards – I'll even let you pick the deck we use, one from the house, or one of your own, or if you wanted to purchase a brand new one to be sure it's fair, I'll even cover it. If I win, you have to apologize to the guests you scared off, then do your night in a holding cell. If I lose, I'll reimburse you for all the credits you lost on these rounds and a little extra and you can go on playing with a new deck and a new slider."

Zorba leaned back against the wall of the Sabacc booth, his round, wrinkled fingers tugging at the braided hairs of his beard. His round eyes were narrowed, but Lando could see a thin smile on that greasy old face. He chanced a glance at the Barabel, whom was mostly leaning heavily on the table like a menacing boulder of armor and weaponry. Lando's comlink went off in the silence. He ignored it. At last, Zorba started to chuckle.

"I like your style, boy." The old Hutt chortled, before he reached into the pouch around his slimy body and pulled out a deck that was unmistakably sabacc cards and handed them across to Lando, "We have a deal – go on and inspect them, assuming it's the policy for the house." These last few words were spoken with a hint of mockery for Lando's formal tone, but Lando gave his best business smile and inspected the deck as thoroughly as he could without looking suspicious of it, ignoring his comlink a second time. The cards smelled peculiar and his fingers felt greasy after touching them, but Lando couldn't find any ink or markings that would signal to a user what was on the cards. Besides, who knew how long Zorba had been carrying it around – of course they'd stink, at least a little – and if Zorba had ever used them, they were obviously going to have some sort of slime from his hands on them.

Without saying a word, Lando handed the deck back over to Zorba to cut, then Lando shuffled, and then passed the deck to the Barabel, who smiled toothily when asked to deal the cards. Lando found himself with the Ace of Staves, the Nine of Coins, and the Page of Sabers. A solid twenty-one, on the nose. Keeping his poker face, Lando laid his cards down and retained his cool, unaffected expression as Zorba laid out the Evil One, the Three of Staves, and the Ace of Coins.

It was the first time Lando had seen a perfectly balanced tie in just one hand of Sabacc. The odds seemed impossible. Still, Zorba was chuckling, sounding exactly like Jabba had when he knew he was going to win. The only other sound from Zorba's laughter was Lando's comlink, buzzing away like crazy.

"This is getting interesting, boy." Zorba put in, looking at both of their hands, "But let's try it the old fashioned way – we put the chips in and play a total of five hands, and I'll up your stakes." Lando raised his eyebrows to this, but listened, cooperatively, "You win, and I'll do my time, pay the guests whose time I ruined, make a public apology, then leave Cloud City and never return – not after your grandchildren's grandchildren run the place." Lando restrained himself from letting out a low whistle.

"And if you win?" He asked, agreeably. Zorba's slimy lips spread even wider in a smile.

"Then you don't reimburse me, but hand over control of the entire city to me – I become the Governor and Baron Administrator and you leave the planet."

Lando blinked as his thoughts started to peal through his mind, racing like some out of control power generator. He should have known that Zorba would want some sort of hand in Cloud City – it was Leia he was after, and he had to have known she was here. That's why he'd come here, first and foremost. If Cloud City was put right into his pocket, then it would be no trouble to find her. Still, Lando knew Han had to have gotten the message by now – even if Zorba did win this game, they would have to be gone by the time the game was finished. But what about the City – it hadn't exactly been a picnic when the Empire took over, but Lobot was always there to keep an eye on the computer systems, and if Zorba got too pushy, the Ugnaughts would probably put him in his place and set things to rights again. That and the people of Cloud City weren't exactly pushovers, themselves. If Cloud City started going to ruin, they'd be liable to form a mob and toss the old slug out of his own picture window and into the clouds below with their bare hands.

And Lando's comlink was going off like wildfire. Smiling as gracefully as he could, Lando answered it.

"Calrissian." He asked, turning the volume down so Zorba couldn't hear it and hoping to keep it short.

"Sir, we've just picked up incoming Imperial ships on our sensors, sir!" Lando's heart convulsed painfully as it jumped to his throat. Glancing at Zorba, whom was looking particularly interested in whatever was making the Baron Administrator sweat so profusely, Lando tried to keep his response as quick and vague as possible.

"Use the usual procedures and report back to me when the operation is complete. Calrissian out." He switched off his comlink and returned to the game. There was nothing for it – he was going to have to play this out to keep the secret from Zorba – the old Hutt wasn't stupid, and if he heard about Imperial ships invading the airspace, he would quickly put the two and two together.

"Do we have a deal, Baron?" Zorba asked, again in that mockingly polite Huttese. Lando made a conscious effort not to bite or lick his lips or any of the other signs of nervousness. With his best charming smile, Lando nodded. Zorba spat into his palm, then extended it to Lando. Without flinching, Lando spat into his own hand and shook. After all, Lando was a superb sabacc player – second to none. With a reputation to uphold and a city to protect, there was no way he could lose. Not a chance in hell.

* * *

"Calling out the fighters to deal with these bastards and leave me in the dark, will he? Lando's a dead man when I get my hands on him." Han fumed as he made his way to the Falcon, Leia hot on his heels as he contacted Chewie to get the engines up and running.

"Han, you just got the Falcon fixed and you now want to get it torn apart again by the same troops who ruined it in the first place?" She demanded. Han tried to close the door to the elevator shaft before Leia got inside, but it didn't quite work.

"Exactly – I just patched her up, I'm not gonna sit by as something takes her to pieces again. 'Sides, I've got some scores to settle with them out there." Han argued. The floors counted down steadily, but Leia continued to berate Han.

"You've had enough scores, can't you just forget about settling them for once and about keeping your own skin intact? How many times have you almost gotten yourself killed for some stupid sco-" Leia was cut off as Han, at the end of his patience, pushed her up against the wall and firmly planted his mouth over hers. It was short-lived, much more short-lived than Han would have liked and Leia wouldn't have admitted against her better judgment, as Han pulled back and took a deep breath to talk over her.

"Your safety comes first, here. They know that we're here, so they'll recognize the Falcon. If they see her in action, they'll assume that you're on board and come chasing after me, which will give the other fighters a better chance of taking them out and keeping you and the City safe. Isn't that what you wanted – to not put civilians at risk?" Leia's face went a peculiar shade of pink, as though she couldn't make up her mind if she wanted to blush or go pale at these words. Han gave her one of his best roguish smiles, "Besides, you're the only one who can put up with the pup's jabbering without wanting to wring his neck – Luke's in his X-Wing helping the fighters and left the pup with Goldilocks and the other two. Don't worry 'bout me – I'll be back in one piece before you can say 'Blast the Death Star'." Han left Leia in the elevator shaft, pretending to fume about being assigned as 'Babysitter' and disguising her worry for Han and her brother. He had some ships to blast.

* * *

Ken, meanwhile, was doubly angry. For one thing, he was lost. For another, he was a prisoner. As soon as Luke had disappeared, leaving Ken in the secure quarters of Lando Calrissian with Chip, Artoo, and Threepio, the door to the terrace slid open. It had been a woman – probably not that much taller than himself – with the darkest black skin he'd ever seen and wearing a sleeveless shirt that looked incredibly like the Jedi tunics Ken had seen in pictures at the Jedi Library. Before he could protest, the woman had grabbed him around the waist and taken him out through the window and down the outside of Cloud City. How she made her way down without slipping and falling into the clouds below, Ken would never know, especially as she swung down into an opening in the side of the city and tossed Ken inside, following after him without giving a second glance to where they were.

As soon as Ken cleared his head of the spinning stars, he looked around and recognized it as a shipping dock with a giant ship the shape of a slug. Ken got to his feet as quickly and steadily as he could with how dizzy he was. The woman straightened up and he heard her snap something into a comlink – something that sounded like 'I've got him, Master Retaw'. Still perfectly furious at being captured, Ken spun to face her and pointed, stuttering out his questions as best he could.

"Who do you think you are and what the kriff is going on here? I will have you know that what you just did is called 'kidnapping' and is punishable by death in many systems, and furthermore-" The woman lazily stretched and ignored him, only interrupting his tirade with;

"Wow, you've sure got a mouth on you. Glad to see the Skywalker brat's been teachin' you such fine manners and language." Ken shut his mouth – so, 'kriff' was a bad word, then: always good to know – before he recovered and chose a different topic this time.

"And watch your own language and show a little respect – Commander Skywalker is a great and respected man, he is a hero and the savior of the galaxy and the last Jedi Knight in existence, so you will speak of him as-"

"Man, LISTEN to you! You really have been growin' up underground if you think he's not only the last Jedi Knight, but a great hero and all that shit." Ken felt his face grow redder with every word she spat out, "And who do YOU think YOU are, copping an attitude like that? Hell if yer bossin' ME around." Ken opened his mouth to shout at her again, but was interrupted by a blast that came from outside the bay. The woman jumped out of the way and pushed Ken backwards, a lightsaber dropping into her hand and igniting with a blade of silver as Ken saw the finned head and body of Chip, whom had a tiny blaster laser sticking out from between his eyes. He flipped, then dangled by the suction cups on his fingertips, then dropped to the floor, padded by jets of cushioning steam that shot out from his feet.

"Master Ken, I must say this is highly irregular – disappearing like that, not even alerting anyone to where you are going, and even if it was a kidnapping, you could have at least had the sense to scream for help and alert security – after all I am sure they would want to know if there is an intruder in the city – and of all things, could you not at least struggle and fight back. Though, I must say you showed some good sense in keeping still and cooperative as this villain took you out into the clouds – struggling would have made it extremely dangerous and whatever would we do then? As for you, young lady, put down that weapon at once – irregular, very irregular, taking a child like that, and then having the gall to insult the man who has done nothing but protect him since leaving the Lost City. Extremely irregular, I say." As Chip scolded and lectured and ranted, his chest plates opened to pop out two cannons that looked incredibly similar to the ones Dee-Jay had had in his arms. Even as Ken shook all over, his mouth dropped open with complete shock, "And, since I can tell the question is just begging to be asked, Dee-Jay had these installed in my programming and circuitry the day we left the Lost City – he said that if I was going to be with you, then I should be appropriately armed for your protection. Do you see now – this is why I did not want you to wander off without telling me. What if someone truly danger-"

"Geezus, you two, would you just chill for a sec?" The woman snapped as she put her lightsaber away, "Now, before anyone gets shot here, I'm gonna make this simple-" She pointed at Ken, "I'm taking you away from the Skywalker brat and yer gonna be my apprentice from now on... or Master Retaw's, we didn't clear that point up, but we'll figure it out when she gets down here. Second, you've got a lot to learn about the galaxy and until you know all the facts, keep your mouth shut. Other than that, I'm pretty easy to get along with. Any questions?"

Ken had plenty of questions – most of them, which he had asked just after being dumped in here, and none of them having yet been answered.

"Who are you would be one." Ken snapped back, testily. The woman scowled, but answered, all the same.

"I-" She said, with a flair, "Am Kaoln the Smuggler, Jedi trader and pilot extraordinaire. I've been flying runs for weapons and supplies for the Rebel Alliance for as long as it's been established, and mostly living on my wits alone since the Jedi Temple was ransacked and the Order fell twenty-odd years ago, and, therefore, I know a bit more about the Force and history than you do." Ken was still fuming as she finished speaking, but said nothing, determined to prove her wrong and do it right with his next words, when the announcement came on.

"Attention, citizens of Cloud City. This is Lando Calrissian speaking. As of this moment on, I have resigned my post and turned control over to the illustrious Zorba Desilijic Tiure. I ask for your full cooperation with this change in power and hope that you will show your new governor the same respect you had for me and that he will be a fair and just leader for you all. Farewell." The speakers went dead, and with it, so did Ken's competitive streak.

"He will know where Princess Leia and the droids are. He will come after her." Obvious as it must have sounded, Ken couldn't stop the words from falling out of his mouth. Kaoln also looked incredibly displeased.

"And us. Come on – we gotta find Master Retaw an' beat it, now." She grabbed Ken's arm and dragged him to a door, bolting out into the city beyond. Ken halfheartedly pulled against her grip, but followed her just the same, looking every which way for some sign of Leia, Threepio, or Artoo, "Forget about the Princess – she can take care of herself. It's YOU they're after."

Ken forgot to struggle for the moment, "What? But Zorba wants revenge for Princess Leia killing Jabba the Hutt – why would he want me?" Kaoln kept yanking him along.

"He cut a deal with the Imps in the ships swarming this place right now – they lead him to Leia, and now that he's got the City under his thumb, he'll find you and turn you over to them." She called back. Ken yanked his arm back as far as he could, but was dragged, relentlessly forward by Kaoln as she made her way into another dock – the same one Commander Skywalker had been training him in earlier. The only difference was that a single fighter was left, unattended. Ken made a more sincere effort to extract his wrist from Kaoln's grip and made it this time.

"But WHY? What makes me so important that they want me?" He protested. He'd asked Commander Skywalker the same question many times since they'd left Tatooine, usually only receiving vague reassurances that everything would be okay or evasive questions in return. Captain Solo and Princess Leia hadn't had any answer beyond an 'I don't know', and now this was happening. Ken was sick of mysteries. Kaoln, apparently, was sick of his questions.

"You think I KNOW? You think if you keep asking, you'll just get an answer out of thin air? You think that if you go up and ask one of them, they'll just apologize for confusing you and politely explain to you why they want your sorry ass? I'm willin' to bet that a lot of those troops out there don't even know why they're here – they're just following orders. Now, quit yer bitchin' and yer whinin'." She snapped, but her rant was interrupted as the doors snapped open. Standing on the other side were a legion of stormtroopers – real, fully armed stormtroopers. The moment they spotted Kaoln and Ken and Chip, they opened fire. Chip's panel flipped open, this time projecting a shield which bounced the blasts off, harmlessly. Kaoln shoved Ken down, behind Chip and a crate, before unholstering a blaster of her own.

"Oh, you did NOT shoot that green shit at me." She snarled to nobody in particular and promptly fired off a volley of shots that all found their targets precisely. Ken's eyes grew wide as each of the stormtroopers fell, finally letting the smoke clear in the bay. He heard something like a horrible, horrible scream breaking the silence. Kaoln reached down and put a hand over his mouth. The screaming stopped. Oh.

His screaming stopped, Kaoln reached for Ken's arm to pull him up, but Ken pulled away from her, pushing himself backward like a crab as she came after him. Chip popped his blaster out again.

"Do not touch me!" He shouted. Kaoln stopped in her tracks, scowling at him with exasperation, "You... you just KILLED them!" Every muscle in his body was shuddering, rattling like the waves of a seismic quake, "You killed them all... you MURDERED them!" Kaoln looked about as offended as Ken had ever seen a human being look.

"Hey – these are our LIVES I'm stickin' my neck out for!" She shouted back at him, but Ken didn't care. All his frustration and fear and utter disgust at the idea of violence and several men being dead in the doorway had finally boiled down at his last hair.

"You did not shoot them because you were in DANGER – you shot because you were ANGRY! You are no Jedi! The Jedi were the soldiers of peace and justice in the galaxy: They never fought for anger, they never abused their power, they always respected life in all its forms. You are no better than a Sith. You are not a Jedi!" Ken's voice hurt. His ears hurt. His eyes stung. He felt sick, so terribly sick that it was only because he was shouting so much that he didn't vomit.

And Kaoln? Kaoln was silent – completely and totally silent. Had Ken just insulted her, terribly, or had he uncovered a spy's disguise? Was she upset or angry? Ken couldn't tell – she was just staring at him. Motionless, wordless.

Then, she smiled. It almost seemed mirthless, but at the same time, with exasperated fondness. Ken backed up even further, until he hit the wall. Kaoln didn't pursue him, instead letting Chip put himself between her and Ken and pull him up.

"Your father would be so proud of you, right now." She finally said. Ken blinked – it had been the last thing he expected to hear, "Okay, you two make a run for it. I'll see if I can slice into the computer system here and get word out that the Jedi Prince is with me – specifically, in one of these fighters. That'll get them to follow me and you can get to the Aluminum Falcon or whatever it is." Kaoln was, indeed, already slicing into the computers. Ken remained in his spot, gaping at her.

"...What about... wait... were you not going to..." Ken started, before Chip started on another one of his rambles, sprinkled heavily with 'Highly irregular's. Kaoln didn't look up from her work to explain.

"Master Retaw an' me'll come after ya eventually, tell you the whole scandalous history behind why we call him the Skywalker brat, an' drag you off by your hair if we need to. Until then, he's probably the safest place for you to be. I might hate his guts, but as long as yer with him, nothin' short of God in a human form'll be able to get at you." She looked over her shoulder and frowned at Ken still standing, staring mutely at her, "I wasn't kidding – haul yer ass outta here." She closed the panel of wires that she'd yanked open, "The message's in the system now... if you don't BEAT IT, I'm gonna beat YOU!" Ken didn't wait after that – with Chip fussing and tailing him, he ran for the door, only looking back over his shoulder to see the strange woman who'd called herself Kaoln hoist herself into the cockpit of the single fighter in the corner.

His puzzlement was put to an end as, with a blast, Chip was sent to the floor in a wreck and a pair of Cloud City police pointed their blasters at him and demanded why he'd been wandering around in a restricted hangar bay that was off limits to citizens.

* * *

Mehgan answered the comlink as it buzzed and wondered immediately if she should be relieved or disturbed to hear Kaoln's voice again so soon.

"I'm not a Jedi!" Mehgan blinked at the comlink, wondering if Kaoln had stumbled on a bar or something along those lines to be blurting out something like that – gleefully of all attitudes to be taking, "He said so – I'm not a Jedi!"

"Kaoln..." Mehgan started, but Kaoln continued joyously announcing the news.

"It all makes sense – I couldn't do SHIT with the Force. You could sense the ship stuck on our back hull and I couldn't, you could move shit with the Force, and I couldn't, and all the other crap that happened! Isn't it great? I don't have to give a damn about the Code no-mores!" Kaoln was positively rejoicing, wherever she was. Mehgan had to repeat for Kaoln to calm down and explain, and when she finally did and told Mehgan her plan, that was when Mehgan somewhat lost her head.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?" She shouted into the comlink, not caring who stopped to stare, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?" She could hear the grin in Kaoln's voice.

"Well, so far, it's got every Imp on my tail. Seriously, I ain't never seen ants swarm around sugar like these suckers are on the fighter I'm in." Mehgan had to sit down on an nearby bench before she lost her balance.

"...YOU ARE!" She finally managed, voice faint, but shrill enough to make up for it, "You really are out of your fucking mind!"

"That's 'cuz the food they served in my mind was awful." Kaoln jibbed back, still cackling like a lunatic, "Anyhoo, the ol' Captain and the Skywalker brat are going back in for a landing. You can either grab the kid and drop a line to the Skywalker brat to leave everyone the hell alone, or you can leave them be and... I dunno, do the whole 'Protection from the shadows' thing. Yeah – that'd be pretty cool. Why don't you give that a go?"

Mehgan struggled for words, then gave up with a sigh.

"...Just contact me when you're done. I have a lecture to give you." She muttered, resigned, into the comlink. She could hear Kaoln grinning.

"Will do, Ma'am." Mehgan turned the comlink off and looked up to find herself staring straight at a young girl with brown hair cropped around her ears and bright gray eyes, staring straight at her.

* * *

Leia had been captured before in her life, so it was nothing new for her to find herself sitting in the quarters on some strange ship of some power mad enemy or another. At least it wasn't Zorba's men who had found her, but she was still getting rather tired of being captured by Imperial agents.

What was new was that, after half a dozen stormtroopers had seized her out of the elevator on Cloud City and taken her to the heavily armed star destroyer poised outside the city and keeping all other crafts on a blockade, instead of the prisoner cells, they had shown her into a spacious and comfortable quarters. There were exotic plants hanging in pots on the wall, graceful sculptures blown from glass and metal stood almost as high as the ceiling, and a thick, wampafur rug lay on the floor. Leia stared at the gaping jaw and lifeless eyes that stared up at her, inwardly cringing and wondering what she was doing in here. Surely, they didn't expect her to play diplomat, did they?

The door opened and a tall, broad shouldered human man stepped through. An Imperial officer, but Leia immediately saw differences. His uniform was tailored and made of black leather, decorated with gold trim, medals, and insignias. He even wore spikes on his shoulders, like pads. Overall, it was clear he was trying to make a nice, if cold and menacing, impression. Then, Leia saw his face and held in a cry of disgust. If he'd been handsome once, it was ruined by blisters and scars, scorched patches of skin bright red like boils that would never heal and enormous brown freckles on the patches of skin that were still clean and fresh. Above it all, though, right in the middle of the man's forehead was an eyeball, right over where his eyebrows met the bridge of his nose.

The three brown eyes gleamed at the sight of Leia, whom was perfectly motionless on the sofa, and the man puffed his chest up. Leia remained as impassive as she could, all too aware of the particularly form-fitting dress she was currently wearing. She was going to kill Lando for putting something like this in her wardrobe.

"Honored guest, Princess Leia, I hope you've found the lodgings comfortable." He began. His voice sounded like he had sandpapered his throat, then swallowed a glass full of oil. Again, Leia remained calm, "I am Lord Tricoculus of Kessandra, Supreme Overlord of Slave Settlements on Kessel and the current Emperor of the Galactic Empire, as was my father before me. For the moment, however, I am at your disposal."

Leia kept her teeth tightly locked to keep herself from grinding them or gagging. This man was bragging about being a slavelord and claimed he was the former Emperor's son? Who did he think he was?

"Charmed." She finally said. Her voice felt thin and she was anything BUT that. Trioculus, however, seemed not to notice it. Inwardly, Leia was calculating this man and his reactions. He couldn't possibly be the Emperor's son – she trusted Luke's information more than the boastful claim of this braggart who was obviously more swagger than any real power. Trioculus paid her no heed and brought out two glasses, placing them on the table before her.

"I don't suppose you might be interested in a drink? We have a great number of wonderful delicacies at our disposal on board." Leia wondered if Trioculus considered himself dashing and gallant – his manner was all of that, but it lacked the sincerity and casual courtesy that even Han could show off when he was flirting with her, "Perhaps you would be partial to a glass of Trik'ah – I hear it's a great rarity throughout the galaxy." And Han would never have the gall to brag about having a bottle of Trik'ah. Not even Lando would be stupid enough to mention it's rarity when offering her a glass. And an Imperial offering her, no less – Leia was fit to strangle the man, but she was also his prisoner. She knew better than to open hostilities before she had learned of what he wanted.

"How generous of you, but I'm afraid I'm not a drinker." She forced herself to say. Trioculus smiled at her again, that humorless, thin-lipped smile that made her feel ready to kill him. Instead of opening the bottle, Trioculus poured himself a different wine, then placed a glass of water before her. Leia returned his smile – just as tight-lipped and disinterested as he was. Trioculus, however, took it as an invitation to touch her. Leia almost cringed away as a black-gloved hand closed on her bare shoulder, but she couldn't stop the goosebumps that raised on her arm. After a moment, however, the three-eyed menace slid his hand down her arm and under her wrist, pulling her up from her seat in a manner that almost seemed gentlemanly, except it wasn't.

Still, Leia played along, standing and allowing Trioculus to steer her over to the window, overlooking all of Cloud City and the dogfight between the Cloud City troops and the Imperial tie fighters. The Millenium Falcon and Luke's X-Wing were auspiciously missing from the fray. It was enough to make Leia to wonder what, exactly, she was here for.

"I have a proposal to make, my dear." Oh, his dear, was she now? Trioculus' great, ugly face was softened, almost gently, but only enough that Leia could tell it was a great act – his third eye continued to glare, hungrily, down at her, "I have only found you through the intelligence network of a dastardly gangster – the very father of Jabba the Hutt, Zorba Desilijic Tiure. The reason he wants you in his clutches is for the vengeance of his son's death and that is how he has found you. I, however, have never intended anything of the sort – merely the information he could provide."

'I'll bet.' Leia thought, keeping the most clueless look on her face possible. Trioculus put that black glove on her hip. She resisted the urge to slap it away.

"My proposal would be quite simple: If you would join the Empire and take your place at my side, I would not only save you from Zorba the Hutt, but I would spare the lives of the soldiers in the Alliance that you have become so fond of. Imagine – complete peace between the two greatest powers in the galaxy. Events like the one before you would be a thing of the past, no more casualties like the heroic Captain Solo and honored Commander Skywalker, no need for hidden bases when they would be one and the same. And you would be at the helm of it all. Queen of the entire, peaceful galaxy, and then, the universe beyond it." Trioculus' hand moved from her hip to around her waist, his whole body pressing her against the window and leaning in close. She could count the pores on his deformed nose and the minuscule scars scars under the burns. Leia's sinuses cringed from the heavy spearmint of his breath and the scent of decaying flesh, and even that didn't distract her from all the atrocious lies and false promises.

For one, he was going to lie to her face and say Luke and Han were dead. Leia had never heard such a bald-faced lie in her life – she wasn't a full Jedi like her brother, but she did have the sixth sense of any woman with someone important to her. She knew that they were alive. That was that. And as for the rest... well, she'd believed in a bargain like this only once, after which Taarkin had called her 'Far too trusting'. Separate from her calculations, all Leia could think was 'Not this AGAIN'.

"It sounds so tempting, but I can't help but be envious of all the other women who must have heard this kind of flattery before me." Leia finally said. As soon as she was finished, she wondered if she should have made it a bit softer or breathier, but apparently Trioculus bought it – he removed his hand from her waist and lifted one of hers to his lips.

"You are the only woman who ever has and ever will hear these words, I assure you. Even in the face of blatant seduction, I have never proposed to make another woman my queen. There was even a woman on Kessel, years and years ago, who played upon my heart, but even then, I knew she was sleeping with one of the inmates and was merely bidding for her freedom. No, I assure you – my heart is for you, alone." The speech was played so well that Leia, had she been a few years younger, just the slightest bit less worn by war, and much less enamored with a certain scoundrel, might have believed him. Still, that third eye seemed incapable of the same false sincerity as the rest of the man – it remained fixated on her, almost hypnotically, only blinking every few seconds. Leia pounced on the words.

"So... you've never married? Never had any children?" She asked. Trioculus smoothed the front of his uniform.

"Never." Leia mustered her best frown, the best confused look she had in her supply – she'd known better than to buy his story about being the Emperor's son for a second, and now, she had just the bait to earn her own way to escape... and possibly turn him on Zorba, giving herself, Han, and Luke all the same chance to escape, "Why, whatever has you puzzled?"

"It's just that... a few days ago, my brother arrived on Cloud City with the Jedi Prince... a Prince who, according to my brother, is the grandchild of the Emperor."

The words had the precise effect Leia had been hoping for – the moment she'd mentioned the words 'Jedi Prince', the pupils of all three eyes had dilated and Leia had felt his hand start to shake under the glove, and as she told him about Luke's information regarding the boy's supposed heritage, Trioculus' face turned a ghastly gray under all the burns and scars and she could tell what was going through his mind.

In a moment, Trioculus guided Leia back to the couch and seated the both of them. For a second, Leia worried if he would try some other advance, but to her relief, Trioculus simply made a clumsy apology and excused himself, leaving two guards posted at the door. A moment later, Leia saw a small passenger ship leaving the star destroyer, bound for Cloud City.

The two guards didn't even notice as Leia withdrew a handheld blaster from her skirt, and neither of them had realized what happened until after Leia fired on them both and disappeared down the ship's corridors, launching an escape pod right after the passenger ship.

* * *

It wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible. Mehgan knew that Kendalina was dead – she'd been dead for twelve years. How could see be seeing her again, NOW, in Cloud City of all places. Kendalina hadn't done much but, as soon as she had her Master's eye, dart off in the opposite direction. She was just like she'd been as a child, even down to the peculiar boyish clothes she wore. Mehgan went after her, remembering exactly how light-footed Kendalina always had been, right up to the point that Mehgan had never been able to catch her.

Maybe... maybe this was a message. A Force-ghost. But why would Kendalina appear as she had been when she was younger? Was it a joke of some sort? Mehgan couldn't figure it out, but she did skid as Kendalina sharply turned around a corner, only to disappear completely as Mehgan caught up. The only place to go from here was a door down the hallway, but Mehgan's senses were on fire, something beyond the door calling out to her, pulling her in, yet a whole ring of other presences, these ones all evil and angry screaming for her to go away and leave them alone.

Mehgan lifted one hand and passed it over the lock, reaching out with the Force to undo the various codes and bolts that kept it secure. The door slid open and beyond it, Mehgan could tell what this place was – various cells with heavy bars and blaster-proof glass lined the room, and each of them housed a different criminal. Mehgan masked her presence and wrapped a Force illusion around herself, breezing into the prison as the door closed behind her and looking carefully into each cell as she passed. The prison's corridor was raised so that the ceilings of the cells were about shoulder level for the average human, but over each cell was a network of tubes which housed wires and carried energy to the lights over head, and then a meter or so of space between those and the final ceiling of the whole block. There was also a smell in the air – sleeping gas. It explained why all the prisoners were asleep and the lack of guards. Mehgan lifted her coat and covered her mouth and nose, forcing the air to filter cleaner into her nose. Glancing around to be sure she hadn't gotten lost, Mehgan realized what had been drawing her – in the cell immediately on her right, Mehgan saw Kendal, curled up into a ball and but not sleeping, instead staring at the floor.

Mehgan opened her mouth to get his attention, but before she could think any further, she heard something like footsteps in the corridor. And not just footsteps, but the marching steps of a soldier. Not waiting for them to get too close, Mehgan jumped up to the tubing covering the ceiling and pulled herself up into the space between the pipes and the roof – she fit, but it was a painful, labored experience to breathe. Stupid boobs.

"For your own protection, visitors are required to wear these, Excellency. Part of our security employs the use of sleeping gas to keep the prisoners subdued." Mehgan pressed the side of her face flat to the pipes in hopes she might see the face of the speaker. While she didn't see that, she did see the man who entered into the prison block with a breathing mask strapped to the lower half of his face. The half she could see was scarred and burned and there was the infamous third eye in the center of his forehead. 'So this is the new Emperor – Emperor Trioculus. What a stupid name.' Mehgan mused.

Her casual observation changed to alarm when Trioculus sat down before the cell Kendal was in and started to talk to the boy. Mehgan heard nothing from Kendal, but after a few minutes, she did hear Trioculus sneer, "Don't try those Jedi mind games on me, young prince. Stronger Jedi than you have tried and failed. It won't work." Mehgan felt her heart stop, then start again.

This wasn't just a freak with a claim on the throne – this was the Kommandant of the prison Kendal had been born in. The Kommandant who had beaten Triclops, raped Kendalina, and ordered her execution at the end. Mehgan's veins started to burn with anger and her fingers curled as she would have liked to do with them around Trioculus' neck, right before she shook him until his neck snapped and then bashed his head into the floor. She was stopped by what she heard.

"Get away from me." It was Kendal's voice – quiet and shaking and breaking up. Mehgan frowned – it reminded her less of Kendalina and more of Triclops, the way he was speaking like he was going to be sick at any minute. Mehgan wondered if he could sense exactly how foul this man was through the Force, before, as Trioculus taunted him, Kendal hissed out, "You smell like blood."

Triclops had always gotten sick at the sight and smell of blood, too. Mehgan remained motionless, watching Trioculus through the piping – if Kendalina could wait for her vengeance, Mehgan could wait, too.

"Now, everyone is bound to smell like blood at some point in their lives – that's the reason we all have blood running through our veins." Trioculus replied in a sickeningly gentle voice that sounded as sweet as poisoned honey.

"You have ice water in your veins." Kendal countered. Trioculus faltered, then changed the course.

"I suppose you must have studied those Jedi tricks in the Lost City of the Jedi, is that right?" Kendal didn't answer. Mehgan heard something an awful lot like vomiting before the smell drifted up to her nose, "I know it might seem a little harsh, but I only did what I had to so I could find you – I'm here to protect you from other forces that wish to destroy you." What a crock. Meghan didn't blame Kendal for vomiting with lines like that.

"Commander Skywalker protects me and he does not smell like blood the way you do." Kendal snapped, but his voice was weak, "You are not trying to protect me– you want me dead. You are pretending to be the Emperor's son and trying to take over and you only want to stop Director Isard from taking over. One of the men you hired to kill me told me to my face – you are Trioculus of Kessandra. You do not care about me." Mehgan thought for a moment over the information before she understood, perfectly, why Dahlouise was here. To give him credit, at least he'd armed his nephew with appropriate knowledge. Why he hadn't informed Kendal of WHY he was wanted dead, Mehgan could guess, but that didn't matter. Kendal's words had alarmed Trioculus.

"That sounds like you've got quite the imagination there." He snarled through the mask, "Are you sure that you're not just repeating what others have told you out of jealousy or simple ignorance."

"I know who the real Emperor's son is – a man named 'Triclops', who the Empire considers dangerously insane with an eye in the back of his head. I know you are a fake and you know it, too." Kendal hissed back. Mehgan felt a smirk spreading across her face – granted, she'd asked that DJ-88 never give Kendal access to that file, but she'd had a feeling he would slice into the file eventually, anyway. She was glad that he'd read what he had and at least knew enough of the truth to put the lid on THIS maniac. Trioculus' eyes – all three of them – narrowed into a horrible glare that struck a sobering into her: What if Trioculus not only knew about Triclops, but also knew that the boy he was speaking to was Triclops' child – the very same child he had let slip under his nose in the death camp settlements on Kessel, the one he had meant to destroy when he'd learned it was not his child, but that Kendalina had used him to become pregnant with the son of a different man? What if Trioculus tried to kill Kendal here and now, when there was nothing to stop him?

"Excellency, is your interview finished? My Lord Zorba is waiting for you to come to your decision to accept his deal or not." Mehgan almost cheered to herself, but remembered that she was hiding – her relief was that heavy on her shoulders. Trioculus scoffed as he stood, spitting a final farewell to Kendal as he strode out of the prison, the door shutting behind him. The footsteps of Trioculus and the guard grew dimmer, then faded away entirely, until Mehgan was satisfied that they were gone and she was alone in this chamber. As silently as she could, she wriggled her way out from over the pipes and dropped down to the floor. Kendal was curled into a ball again – and that had, indeed, been him retching a moment ago – back turned to the bars. Mehgan put her hand over the lock and with an audible snap, it came undone. Kendal bolted up and looked over his shoulder at her.

"Who are you?" He asked. Mehgan didn't smile or pretend to be reassuring or pleasant – she knew too well she was none of those things.

"The lady who kidnapped you before called me 'Master Retaw'. Don't mind the lock – I'm just busting you out of here." Mehgan came into the cell, looking around for something she could use to fool the guards if someone came back in here to get Kendal after Trioculus and the Hutt sealed their deal. There were no pillows or blankets like most prisons had – she was a little surprised, since this WAS Cloud City. Then again, it was a Cloud City overrun with Imps and a Hutt in charge. Maybe they had had some before, just taken away with the change in regime.

Kendal was still watching her, "So you are rescuing me, then?" He asked, quietly. Mehgan shrugged, "Were you a Jedi in the Old Order?" Mehgan nodded as she poked her head outside the cell, looking around for something else. Once again, nothing, "Who was your Master?" Mehgan shot Kendal a glare, before she realized he was asking her these questions as an interrogation – he'd been captured twice today, so he wanted to be sure she was really an ally, not an enemy in disguise.

"My Master was a member of the Council named Master Mace Windu. He took me on as an apprentice when one of his old apprentices and my friend asked him to do so. Before that, I was stuck in the Bear Clan of younglings for many years, where I earned the nick-name 'Flat Chest Retaw' because, despite being almost fifty years old – approximately thirteen in human years – I still hadn't developed any figure. Master Yoda taught me during those days and before Master Windu took me as a padawan, I was assigned to the Exploration Corps. Yes, I was promoted to the level of Jedi Knight, in 27 BBY, but even then, I was considered something of a joke to the Order, and in 23 BBY I was expelled from the Order, so when the Order fell and the Temple was burned, I was not officially registered and, thus, passed over." She paused to take a breath, but Kendal was no longer eying her apprehensively. Instead, he got off the bench sticking out from the wall that served as the bed in the cell and took a few cautious steps as though to follow her. Mehgan still had no idea of what to do that would at least disguise the fact that there had been a break out, but she was starting to think it didn't matter.

Without looking back, Mehgan went up the steps with Kendal following her and in another few minutes, they were out the door and running through the corridors of Cloud City as fast as they could to get away from the prison. As soon as Mehgan could be sure they were well away from the place, she slowed to a brisk walk – more because her run had been the fastest sprint Kendal could manage and he was already gasping from trying to keep up with her.

"Chip! I must go back and find Chip!" Kendal started to go in a different direction than Mehgan, until she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back to her.

"Don't get sidetracked – I've gotta get you to the Millennium Falcon before someone sees you've escaped and tries to shoot you." She snapped. Kendal pulled away again, determinedly dragging her in the direction he wanted to go.

"This is my responsibility – he was shot because of me, and I need to at least put him back together again. Dee-Jay sent him with me for my own protection, and I need to at least make sure he can do his job." This was a good point, Mehgan reasoned. And, if nothing else, going back to where Kaoln had dumped the boy in the first place would be a good way to be sure they didn't get lost. Wondering if she'd been this much of a pushover when Kendalina had still been around, Mehgan allowed Kendal to lead her back to the hangar for the Cloud City fighters.

That was when Mehgan's comlink went off. Fumbling, she managed to extract it from her robes, clicking it on to hear Kaoln on the other end.

"Are you back already?" Already wasn't quite the word, but Mehgan figured it would be better to bluff and pretend she'd just been waiting. Kaoln's voice on the other end sounded worn and tired.

"No... I've got as many of the ties out of commission as I'm gonna, but I'm running low on fuel..." There was a strain in Kaoln's voice – one that Mehgan didn't like to hear at all, "Master Retaw, you've got the kid, right?" Kendal wasn't listening, all his energy focused on finding the way back to where Chip had been left in a crumpled heap on the floor. Mehgan was grateful that he couldn't overhear this as she confirmed that she did. "Good... good... get him back to the Falcon. It's the safest place for him... then, you take my ship and follow them – I don't care how fancy you hafta talk to get the ol' smuggler ta let you tail him, just do me this, as a favor."

Mehgan laughed. "One smuggler to another, and all for the Alliance. How much can he argue?" Kaoln laughed, too, still as loud and merry as she had been with the news that she wasn't a Jedi.

"Master Retaw... under the seats in the cockpit, the panels come up... and in that compartment, I've got this big box stowed away under it..." Kaoln paused. Mehgan heard a grunt and the distant sound of a laser cannon firing, "...Could you make sure Gwen gets it? She'll know what it's about."

And that was when Mehgan realized – just as Kaoln had realized – that this was her last flight. Again, she was glad that Kendal was distracted as the boy led her around the corner and found Chip, scrambling to pick him up. Mehgan was silent as she watched.

"Sure thing." She finally said. The connection broke and Mehgan grabbed Kendal by the wrist, leading him up the corridor towards the other docking bays. Through the windows, the entire scope of the battle could be seen, as well as the extent of the fleet the Empire had brought. A vast star destroyer was hovering at the epicenter of it all, surrounded by the bursts of fire and bolts as the TIE fighters incessantly chased after the single fighter with the Cloud City insignia that bobbed and weaved and continued to dodge and evade their blasts. It looked rather like a reenactment of the Battle of Endor in a much smaller scale. Hours ago, the fleet had been much closer to the city, but the presence of more defense ships had pushed them back, farther away. Still, that was hours ago, over and done with. Now, it was just that one ship left, holding them off.

Mehgan didn't look out the window, instead pulling Kendal straight ahead. Kendal, however, couldn't look away, transfixed by the elaborate moves Kaoln's ship made through the TIEs, sometimes making a swoop so low that a fighter on her tail would crash on the star destroyer's surface. It was transfixing.

On the next swoop, Kaoln's fighter managed to catch all of the TIEs up in a chase on her tail as she pelted at top speed towards the star destroyer. Halfway into the dive, a thick, white smoke started pouring from her engines, leaving a trail that encased every fighter that followed her. The next second, she started to spin, her fighter still in a dive as she plunged uncontrollably towards the star destroyer's main fuel brakes.

The next thing that Mehgan saw was the sky light up with fire. Kaoln's hit had been dead on, causing the whole star destroyer to shudder with glowing orange light before smoke and flames blew out every window and port on the ship. The trail of smoke Kaoln had left in the air caught the blaze and lit up as the fire burned through the oxygen and sent every last one of the fighters down in a charred wreck. The star destroyer split in two and went plummeting through the atmosphere, flames still raging out of the mess.

Mehgan bowed her head, just briefly enough to see that Kendal's eyes had gone wide and glassy, reflecting the blazing ruins of the ships, and his face was chalk white with sheer terror. Instead of trying to console him, Mehgan just took Kendal's wrist in her grip and dragged him back to the docks.

* * *

"Where the KRIFF were YOU?" Han shouted as Mehgan pushed Kendal up the ramp of the Falcon. Kendal didn't answer, so Mehgan did for him.

"Busy getting kidnapped – are you losers leaving or what?" Han pointed out that he flat out refused to let the kid stay on board the Falcon if it could be avoided, which it could be when Luke was in his X-Wing, preparing for takeoff. In the meanwhile, Leia was on her way down from where she had crash-landed in an escape pod, which gave Mehgan the few minutes she needed, "I'll be following you to the next base, for cover and to deliver a shipment of supplies."

Han glared at her from over his shoulder. She glared back.

"Hell if I'm lettin' you tail my ship." He snapped, irritably.

"It's not me – I'm completing a run for Kaoln, an Alliance smuggler, because she just got herself blown up in the dogfight with the Imperial ships." Mehgan replied, just as irritably. Chewbacca barked something that sounded rather appreciative, especially as Han looked back with his eyebrows raised.

"Your buddy was the one out there that just took all those ships out?" He asked. Mehgan nodded, deciding that was the best way to put it, "Good enough for me – I'll comm you the coordinates, so long's you get him over to Luke. Next hangar over."

Mehgan didn't waste any time in leading the still shell shocked Kendal back down the ramp and quickly drawing her saber as, following the Princess, a squad of stormtroopers came through the door to the hangar. Leia was doing a reasonably fair job of defending herself, but Mehgan just did not care at this point. Using the point of her saber to carve a piece of duracrete from the floor, Mehgan hauled it up with one hand, then released it like a discus, sending the troops scattering as they ran for it. Leia made a leap onto the Falcon's landing ramp as Mehgan dragged Kendal over to the next hangar bay and left him in Skywalker's capable hands, bolting for Kaoln's old, dear ship and lifting off after the Millennium Falcon as soon as she could.

It had been a very long day for her.

* * *

Dalina sat, upside-down on the ceiling, and watched Zorba the Hutt gloat in his victory over Trioculus. The man with three eyes did not look nearly so disturbed to hear that his whole fleet had been wiped out as the news that Princess Leia, being on board the star destroyer, had been a certain casualty. And now, all that was left was Trioculus' fate. Zorba's laugh echoed through the room as, with the flick of a switch, the old, mutated tyrant, dropped into a pit from the platform, smoke spraying everywhere in the air before a pair of tongs lifted out a block of solid black carbonite, only the barest impressions in the thick slab of a chin, lips, nose, and forehead with a peculiar lump on it showing there was even a person underneath, at all.

Dalina had seen all she wanted to see. Cackling to herself, she moved back through the solid wall just like Jii Dalhouise had done in the hangar bay, landing on her feet on the outside with a bit of a jig, like a fiendish little imp who'd stolen her treasure.

"Oh, the fun of being the fly on the wall!"

A/N: O-kay... the reason this chapter was so, so, so damn long was because, really, I wanted to pack the whole of 'Zorba the Hutt's Revenge' into this chapter. Technically, I broke it into two halves – the first being the previous chapter. This meant I had a SHITLOAD of material to cover, edit, add to, cut out, and revise. In the end, I'm glad I've got what I've got now. It was worth it. Be even more worth it if someone could leave a review and at least reassure me that you're still reading.

The song title is by Great Big Sea. Who saw Kaoln's death coming? I sure didn't.


	19. Part II: Chapter 9

PRINCE

By Sapadu

A/N: I'm actually getting to this chapter quickly because I knew I'd get backed up if I didn't, and because I'm on such a roll that I don't want to lose my train of thought.

Also, I'm looking back at my early chapters and seeing the formatting I did with the chapter titles. I've kinda stopped italicizing them. The reason? I'm lazy.

Chapter 9: He Lives in You

Wait, there's no mountain too great/ Hear the words and have faith

Ken woke up as the X-Wing shuddered and rocked and finally landed with a jerk. He remembered getting into the little cramped space behind Commander Skywalker, but it was more because, since he was sitting here, he had to have climbed in at some point. Ken's mind was completely blank from Cloud City to here, where ever here was. He didn't recognize any of the cloudy, foggy sky he could see through the windshield -- in fact, he couldn't see really anything through the windshield, the fog was so thick and heavy.

"Good call on that last swoop, Artoo. At least we're on solid ground." Ken had almost forgotten that, if he was in the back of an X-Wing, it meant Commander Skywalker would be in the pilot's seat. The cockpit started to open and a chilly, wet breeze rushed into the enclosed space, pervading everything with the smell of moist soil and vegetation, but as though there was entirely too much water everywhere. It stung at Ken's eyes and made the inside of his nose and mouth burn with cold and he started to shiver from the icy, watery air sinking into his clothes and to his skin. Commander Skywalker wasn't bothered by it, because he was already climbing out of the pilot seat, helmet resting on the control panel as he climbed out of the cockpit for something.

"Commander Skywalker?" Ken said as Commander Skywalker's head reappeared over the side. He glanced up from whatever he'd been doing, as though surprised to see Ken awake.

"Ken? Are you alright?" Instead of answering, Ken stared, blankly, up at the clouds and fog that surrounded the ship.

"Where are we?" Commander Skywalker started to unload crates from the compartments under the pilot chair and surrounding nooks in the cockpit, pausing only to answer Ken's question.

"The Dagobah system." From where he was, still lodged in the plug inside the X-Wing, Artoo beeped an indignant confirmation of that fact, even as Ken continued to blankly stare up into the sky. Dagobah, They were on Dagobah. Somehow, the words should have excited Ken, made him realize that he was on the very same planet where Yoda had trained Commander Skywalker years ago, that they were going to be training here, this time Commander Skywalker the master with an apprentice, that this was about as far from home as he had never expected to be. Instead of excitement or anticipation or even the slightest bit of nerves, Ken felt a piercing cold, like the chilly air had gone through his clothes and flesh and cut all the way into his innermost cells, to the insides of his innermost cells, to the insides of those insides. His arms and hands were shaking and he couldn't feel his toes or feet and his legs had gone completely to sleep.

"Ken." Ken started as Commander Skywalker's face appeared over the edge of the cockpit again, "Hand me Chip, so you can climb out."

Ken blinked, then looked down at his lap where Chip's blasted body and dismembered head were resting. Oh, so that's why his legs had fallen asleep.

Oh.

Oh.

* * *

Luke finished unloading supplies from the X-Wing as fast as he could. Ken had dissolved into a hysterical fit of tears as he'd woken up and seen Chip still in pieces, and interspersed between hiccups, Luke could hear words babbling out of the boy's mouth, but none of them were even close to comprehensible. Luke had gotten Artoo out before the astromech could get it in his dome to eject himself and have another disaster like last time they'd come to Dagobah. Now, Artoo was plugged into a charger and sitting with Ken, whistling and tweeting in his own language, which Ken could apparently understand. It seemed like the wisest choice, since Ken seemed more comfortable around the droids than he'd been around any human so far.

Luke had finished with all his unpacking by the time Ken had calmed down -- closer up, Luke had heard a great deal of 'This is my fault' and 'If only I had not...', so he was quite relieved on that front -- but when Ken finally managed intelligible words, they came out so softly that Luke almost thought he'd imagined them. Then, Ken repeated them.

"Commander Skywalker." This time, Luke heard it, quite clearly, "Is Chip dead?"

Luke set down his lamp from where he'd been checking his inventory of supplies and stared at Ken. The boy was curled up and staring down at the droid head in his hands, completely unaware of Luke's gaze until he sat down next to Ken with a thump -- inventory could wait.

"What do you mean by dead, Ken?" He asked. It was the first time he'd heard anyone talk about a droid that way. Ken looked up, meekly, before staring back down. He'd turned Chip's head over in his hands until both of them could see Ken's reflection in the unlitten eyes.

"Back home, I used to think that everyone was just like droids. If they broke, you just had to look inside and find out what was wrong and fix it. I did not understand 'death'... but one of them explained that dying was like breaking and not being able to be fixed again." Ken paused, running a thumb over the ridge on Chip's head. "It is when, even if you put all the parts back together, what made it move and talk and think never comes back. But I know that droids are all zeros and ones on the inside, so you can just reprogram them... but, at the same time, what if I cannot ever reprogram Chip right? What if nobody ever can? Does that make Chip... dead?"

Luke forced himself not to chew on his lower lip. He supposed he should have expected a few bumps like this -- the boy HAD been raised by droids, after all -- but how Ken thought about death versus breaking -- about being alive versus non-living -- Luke wasn't sure if it inspired confidence or if it disturbed him.

"Everyone will die, someday. Even droids -- nothing can go on forever. But that doesn't mean they'll disappear when they die. Nobody just disappears." Luke answered, quietly. He thought about the war with the Empire, from the moment he'd seen Artoo's recording of Leia asking Ben Kenobi for help, through all the good men and women he'd seen die fighting for what they believed in, right up to now. Even this recent maneuver at Cloud City, Luke had heard Ken babble something about a woman who had blown herself up with a whole fleet of Imperial ships, "As long as we remember them, they are always with us, always one with the Force, and always watching and protecting us, giving us guidance and wisdom when we need it, strength when we have none of our own, however they can."

Ken didn't answer to this, instead continuing to stare at Chip's head. Luke held in a sigh, realizing that Ken needed an answer about now.

"Chip, we might be able to fix. Artoo, what'd you think?" Artoo beeped, encouragingly, "It might take time, and we might not have the parts here if there are any we need to replace, but it can be done. Whether or not he's dead, that's up to you."

Ken's gaze remained lowered, but he was no longer upset -- Luke could feel a strange calm inside the boy, but it almost seemed a tired calm, as though Ken was simply too exhausted to continue worrying or thinking rather than actually being put to rest.

"Commander Skywalker..." Ken started, but even after Luke responded, Ken didn't say anything further. Something was bothering him, but Luke couldn't quite sense what, "Never mind." Ken finally finished. Luke held in a sigh.

"You don't have to call me Commander Skywalker- Luke's just fine. Everyone else calls me that_._" He finally said, getting up and finishing the inventory. Ken finally looked up, blinking.

"Really? I can really just call you Luke?" The words sounded disbelieving, almost, but Luke managed a smile.

"Yeah, really. The only time I hear 'Commander' anymore is from the higher generals, and even then, it's only at strictly formal meetings." Was his answer before Luke added, "Besides, it's easier to shout when you're in trouble."

Ken started to smile, just a little.

"That sounds like something Captain Solo would say."

Luke smiled back, slightly.

"Yeah... I guess it does." And then he changed the subject, "We're going to be here for a while -- Dagobah is a secluded world, and the atmosphere dampens all kinds of Force sense and can act as a natural shield against other tracking devices, so bounty hunters and Imperial ships pass it over. Until the Alliance returns to it's base on Yavin Four, we'll be training here."

Color returned to Ken's face almost immediately. Luke knew he'd be interested in that.

"How long do you think that will be?" He asked. Luke thought for a moment, but finally had to shrug.

"Can't say for sure. At least a month. I'd be surprised if it was more than a year." Luke replied.

"How long did you stay here when you were training?" Ken asked. Again, Luke had to shrug.

"A matter of days -- two weeks, at most. It seemed much longer because I wasn't really thinking about it and because I was learning so much from Yoda." Ken's eyebrows quivered a little as they drew closer together. Luke's raised.

"That is half a month. Would we be able to last a month?" Luke's stomach lurched. His own concern might have shown, but if it had, Ken mistook it, because he continued, "Do we have enough supplies? Will we have to forage if we run out? Could we if we had to?"

The questions had gone through Luke's head in almost a second as Ken started to talk, again. The days that Luke had spent here seemed paltry in comparison to the years, the decades Yoda must have spent. There had to be some way of surviving on natural vegetation on this planet. The question was what they were, how they could find them. After a second, though, Luke calmed down -- of course, Yoda had survived. That had been because he had been in tune with the Force, because he had control over his emotions, had known better than to panic or lose his head over something trivial liked what he would eat or where he would live. Luke closed his eyes and slowly took a deep breath before he turned to Ken. Again, just like all the other times before, Ken immediately lapsed into silence as he sensed Luke beginning to speak.

"That's not what really matters, right now. Our main focus is your training. Everything else, we can manage as it comes if we just keep our heads." Ken continued to blink at Luke. He could sense the boy's need for a real answer to the question, "Ken, do you trust me?"

Ken's stare turned from intense with panic to confusion, but it soon passed. Silently, he nodded. Luke smiled.

"Then, do you really think I'd let you starve, if something did happen and we ran out of rations and supplies?" Luke raised his eyebrows. Ken continued to blink, as though Luke had asked the question in Gamorrean. Slowly, he shook his head. Luke's smile grew.

"I won't be able to do it alone, though." He added after enough of a pause that, after probing the Force a little, he could sense Ken's determination not to screw up rising again, "It isn't easy to survive out here, but nothing really is ever easy. With help, it IS possible."

Ken's blinking went from rapid and questioning to a slower, but more determined, more understanding pace. Luke could feel his instinct to improve, to impress, to do whatever he could lighting up again.

"What can I do?" Were his next words. These words, Luke had expected.

"At the moment? I could use a hand setting up where we'll be sleeping until we leave, unless you want to sleep on the cold, wet ground." He turned back to the boxes of supplies -- they had enough food and water to last a month, maybe two if rationed carefully, but Luke somewhat doubted it would be that long before the Alliance reclaimed their base on Yavin Four -- and started to lift the necessary supplies to make a waterproof shelter out of a box. A minute later, he heard the rustle and clank of Ken setting Chip aside and standing up to assist him.

Ken didn't look back over his shoulder as he helped Luke construct the frame of the tent and was silent and solemn as they unfolded the tarp.

"We'll fix him, someday. Just probably not today." Luke promised. He knew it was on Ken's mind. Ken paused what he was doing to glance, hopefully, at Luke. Quite unexpectedly, he looked back down, not smiling at all.

"I must do it alone." Ken mumbled. Luke looked around the corner to frown at his apprentice, but Ken wasn't looking at him, "It is my responsibility... if I did not do it, I would not be a real friend."

Luke said nothing more on the subject and Ken was unusually silent as the two of them finished setting up camp.

* * *

"So THIS iz the Master Retaw I've heard so much about." Gwen was not as tall as Mehgan, but she definitely had to be as strong. Anybody could see that from the moment they laid eyes on her. What Mehgan hadn't expected was for Gwen to turn out to be a Barabel. Female, certainly; a smuggler, why not; a swaggering, scar-faced, hard-hitting, no-nonsense ruffian; absolutely. But a different species than Human; Mehgan hadn't seen THAT one coming, "These ones were wondering if she really was as pritty as Kaoln said she waz."

"By these ones, you mean there are... friends of yours, waiting to meet me?" Mehgan guessed. Gwen's tongue flickered out as she sissed in amusement.

"You weren't expecting me, I take it." Gwen didn't need to guess, there, "Did you think Kaoln's nestmate was somesing else? No Human could survive with That one -- she's too rough." On that point, Mehgan certainly wasn't going to argue -- Kaoln had been every bit a wild woman as her Master, and Kendalina's intensity had been something that no Human could have possibly lived with without getting a few scars to show for it.

"It does make me question some things about Kaoln's personal life that I'd rather not have to imagine." Mehgan admitted, then allowed herself a smile as Gwen's tail thumped on the floor in obvious appreciation for the joke.

"These ones are all scattered in the baze. Only ten of us left -- alla rest of the Furies be lost in Coruscant boneyards." Mehgan felt something sting very deep inside her. She knew why they were there, and even worse was that she wondered if it wasn't partially her own fault. Her expulsion for the Order had lead Kendalina to go out and search for her and make contact with the Furies. It was that loyalty that had led them back to the Temple and attempt to evacuate the younglings, and that had gotten them killed. What if Mehgan had been stronger, smarter, something, to never have been expelled in the first place? Kendalina never would have left the Order, never would have brought all those abandoned, stray girls into this mess, they might have stood a chance against Vader and the Emperor when he rose.

Gwen went about the ship, pulling out all the goods Kaoln had tucked away -- most of the legit were brought out and carted down the ramp as Gwen pushed the crates, the various traders for the Alliance coming to collect and taking the goods their own ways. Mehgan didn't know what the boxes contained, nor who the people taking them away were, but a group of assorted gangly and muscular men in greasy engineering suits lingered behind even longer as Gwen pried open some of the ship's hidden compartments. A loud sissing noise and several cheers went up as Gwen victoriously lifted a box out of the hole.

"Rum! Real, good, ol' rum! Open it up an' let's see what kinds she got innair!" One of the men shouted. Mehgan made her way back up the ship's ramp to see Gwen competitively rip the sealant off with her claws while three of the men tried to pry off the cross-bows on the other end of the box. It fell apart in a short order to reveal whole cases of rum. Some were Corellian, some were Huttese, some were flavored, some were spiced, and some were bright, gem-like colors.

"I say we open up a bottle and have a toast -- To the Rogues!" There was a cheer.

"To smugglers!" Another cheer.

"To women!" Gwen's cheers were sounding even louder than the Rogue Squadron.

"To women who're just like one of the guys!" The cheers were scattered with laughter.

"To... successful smuggling runs made by women who are just like one of the guys who bring us great rum!" This was greeted by the most enthusiastic cheer of all before the Rogues seemed to remember something and went diving back into the hidden compartment, "SMOKES! She did it again, the good old bitch!"

Privately, Mehgan wondered if Kaoln would have kicked this black-haired guy's ass for calling her a bitch or beamed with pride at the name, since it seemed to be said with something resembling affection. A blond man paused to stare at Mehgan, or, more appropriately, at her cleavage, not distracted by the booze and smokes. Mehgan coolly looked right back at him.

"I'm on Kaoln's team." She curtly informed him. The Rogue looked back at all the goods being unloaded and shared out from Kaoln's smuggling stores. The other pilots were voting to go back into the pub and getting severely wasted, so Mehgan discreetly caught Gwen's tail and tugged her forwards to the cockpit, "Kaoln told me that she had something for you in here -- the compartment under the seats."

Gwen's single whole eye and other, half-melted shut eye both lit up as her tongue flicked out and licked along the burn scar that covered her entire left face.

"Somesing important. She never left anything under the seats -- only things so valuable that she wanted to grab them if she ever had to bail out. Seats were only plaze to put somesing she wanted to grab right away." Gwen dropped to all fours and crawled over Mehgan's head on the ceiling towards the cockpit, getting there and yanking up the seats as quickly as she could to show the long, large box Kaoln had mentioned.

Inside, Gwen lifted out an enormous shoulder cannon that almost looked like the entire firepower of a star destroyer packed into a one-man, portable rifle. Gwen's tail went rigid as she thumped it heartily against the deck and sissed with joy.

"She remembered." Gwen looked like she would dance for joy if she weren't so busy shouldering the gun and admiring it, "I told That one a year ago that we needed one of these on board. She said I'd be the only one who'd ever use it, so I said that just meant I'D have to get one. Thought I'd be saving for another two years 'till I could get it together."

Mehgan felt sick watching Gwen lovingly pet the long barrel, heavy bullet chambers, and the shoulder pads. Even worse, she knew she didn't feel sick just because of the glee and delight Gwen was showing as she admired her new toy.

"In Human cultures, we call those 'Anniversary gifts'." One of the Rogues, the one with the messy, black hair, pointed out from the door. Gwen sissed as she shouldered the weapon and put her eye to the scope.

"In Smuggling, it's called 'You owe me for at leazt another year', Janson." She countered, before turning to Mehgan, "Where is the little Licker, anyway? These ones all need to thank her."

Mehgan raised a hand and pushed her hood off her head and down to her back. She took a deep breath, then sighed.

"Maybe we should all go sit down."

* * *

It was nerve-wracking enough having to escape from Cloud City with a Princess that an old Hutt wanted dead on board. For Han, it wasn't quite as nerve-wracking as it would have been in his early smuggling days, back before he'd gotten soft for those big, brown eyes, or before he'd done this plenty of times for the Alliance. Having her Worship be stressed out about something and not want to talk with Han about what it was, however, put new tests on Han's nerves. He knew she was biting her nails about something every time his back was turned and that it was something she didn't want Han to know about -- he didn't need no hokey religions or freaky Jedi tricks to guess THAT.

What he'd kill to know was WHAT it was. Leia'd been acting strange since Luke arrived on Bespin, but it wasn't out of caution or fear for her own skin: Yeah, Princess Leia Organa being spooked just because some old worm wanted her head -- that'd be the day. No, it was like she was thinking about some problem that she couldn't figure out how to solve. Still, it was also tinged with desperation, confusion, almost fear. Had Luke asked her to do something that she didn't want to do for some personal reason? Naw -- Luke wouldn't do something like that. He just didn't have enough jerk in him to do that to anyone. Besides, Leia'd never agree to it.

"Han, do you ever question yourself for some reason?" Han's puzzlement and curiosity turned to alarm. Leia just didn't ask questions like that -- it was, like, against the laws of nature, or something.

"You mean like 'Will I ever go back to my old smuggling days because I'm still playing the Alliance's errand boy?' Sure, all the time." Han evaded the question, but Leia continued, not even fazed by the jab Han had made. Great -- that meant it was BAD.

"I meant as in... I don't know... do you have any family who make you wonder if you'll ever go as bad as they are? Anyone who makes you wonder if there's something in your blood that you don't want?"

Han leaned back in his pilot chair. Chewie kept his paws on the vibrating controls well enough that Han could stretch and relax for a few minutes. Instead of doing that, he thought about an answer that might get Leia to talk about what was bugging her, or, failing that, would be enough to make her relax over whatever it was.

Family... Han could certainly think of someone on his family tree he wasn't too proud of, but Leia didn't need to know about him. Besides, if this conversation was going the way Han suspected, bringing up Thracken wasn't going to really strike any chord with Leia -- her's and Luke's father made Han's old cousin seem like a saint. Nah, it wouldn't help any.

"Don't really know, sweetheart. I never knew my parents, remember?" Leia's gaze remained just as unwavering -- it was that look when she wanted an answer to her question, no side-skirting or bullshitting, but more because she wanted to find comfort in the answer than any thirst for real knowledge, "But what's it matter? Just because your parents screwed up or made mistakes, it's not a gene you can inherit. If it was, you'd either be married to some crazy, power-hungry overlord trying to run the galaxy or you'd be two-hundred centimeters, all in black, with a breathing mask strapped over your face by now." Han gave Leia a very deliberate glance over that made her cheeks go at least a little pink, "And you ain't."

Leia broke her gaze. Maybe she wasn't relaxed, but she wasn't sweating over it like she'd been before.

"Speaking of crazy, power-hungry overlords trying to run the galaxy, I met one of them on Bespin."

"Should've known I couldn't trust Lando." Han turned back to the controls, but he heard Leia disguise her rather undignified snort as a cough.

"One of the men we heard about from the walking Corellian Urban Legend." She clarified. Han put his hands flat on his armrests to steady them before he trusted himself not to jerk the controls clean off the board. Leia went on to describe this self-proclaimed 'Emperor Trioculus', more than willing to speculate on his motives for trying to seduce Leia and in a much better mood than before.

Han made a mental note to check the gunners when they landed and tell Mon Mothma about this info if Leia didn't beat him to it. In the meantime, however, her Highness was safe and that was more than enough to set Han's mind at ease and his ego on the rise.

* * *

Meditation was one thing. The silence was always heavy and pervasive and so very, very loud that you could hardly stand it, but it was one of those things that he had to overcome to meditate. It took discipline, and because it took discipline, it made meditating that much easier, in the same strange fashion that running a kilometer long marathon was easier than sprinting a few meters and resting before sprinting the next increment. Roundabout, certainly, but that was part of training.

What unnerved Luke was how silent the air was directly to his right. Luke had expected fifteen minutes, maybe half an hour, tops, before Ken lost his concentration, got frustrated, or simply grew too fidgety and just HAD to say something. Yet, there had been perfect silence since the beginning of their exercise, and Luke was suddenly starting to feel impatient and antsy.

Still, he was the master and had to teach by example – Luke said nothing and tried to ignore the churn in his gut that said there was something unnatural about this meditative silence. He tried dismissing it as a teacher's concern that maybe Ken wasn't really meditating – that he'd fallen asleep or was just sitting there, not really thinking about anything – or a guardian's worry that the boy's strange behavior was illness or that maybe, when Luke opened his eyes from meditating, Ken would have run away or been dragged off by a swamp slug.

Unable to put that worrisome thought to rest, Luke finally settled on a compromise and opened one eye, just enough to see that Ken was still sitting firmly on the ground, legs folded just like Luke, eyes closed, and breathing even. Still, there was the possibility that Ken wasn't really meditating – children always were unnaturally uncanny at paying lip service and putting up a show just so they wouldn't get in trouble, who was to say that Ken wasn't doing something similar?

Luke closed his eye, attempting to turn back to his meditation, only to realize that his concentration was shot. Luke let out a sigh – it was his own fault, he'd broken his own concentration willingly enough, but it still almost seemed like a bigger mistake than just interrupting morning routine. A tingle on the back of his neck let him know that Ken's eyes had popped open the minute he sighed – not surprising, that – and the exercise was over.

"Time for breakfast." Luke knew he said that more to break the heavy, awkward silence than anything, but at this point, he was beyond caring. Discipline was one thing, but he also had this cold feeling somewhere in his middle that too much of that kind of quiet – especially with Ken around – was not a good thing. Ken immediately obliged, as though he too had been unnerved by the silence, filling it up by chattering about what kinds of nuts ration bars were made from, what kinds of trees and planets they came from, why nuts were the main ingredient, how holding an equal balance of carbohydrates, proteins, and fats as well as having a long preservation life made them ideal for foods that were meant to last for a long time, and more trivia.

Luke let him jabber as the two of them chewed their food, all the while, contemplating Ken's strange behavior since they'd arrived on Dagobah. Tempted as Luke was to just blame it on the change in environment, atmospheric pressure, or climate of the planet having a dampening effect on both of their Force senses, he knew that it was still about what had happened on Bespin. Luke wasn't sure what, exactly, Ken could have gone through in the few hours Luke had left him with the droids – especially since Luke was sure that Ken hadn't STAYED where Luke had left him – and none of the ideas he came up with or information that Artoo gave him was particularly helpful.

"What were you thinking about?" Luke finally asked as Ken paused for air. Ken blinked, then frowned, "While we were meditating. You were focused on something – what was it?" Luke tried to excuse his curiosity as a teacher, as having to be sure that his apprentice was actually doing his exercise instead of just napping. Ken looked back at the ration bar that he'd only taken one bite out of between words, shrugging rather bravely for a twelve-year-old boy.

"Stuff." Luke snapped another chunk of ration bar off with his teeth. This was definitely not the best food there was out there, but it was better than emergency rations. And it had flavor. Even one day on food paste taught you to be grateful for flavor.

"What kind of stuff?" He asked, wondering in the back of his head if this is what Uncle Owen had ever felt like when Luke had been just getting into his teens and going through his rebellious phase. Ken concentrated a bit harder on his breakfast, as though hoping Luke would forget if he stalled long enough. Frowning, Luke stretched out with the Force and gave Ken what he hoped was the equivalent of a jab with an elbow in his emotions. Ken jumped a little, but didn't glare at Luke – at least that meant he understood that Luke needed to know.

"Alliances." Ken's voice was mumbled as he quickly took another bite, deliberately chewing slowly and talking between chews, "'Bout how it is different to be a friend an' an ally."

Luke finished chewing his mouthful, then swallowed.

"Just because you're one thing doesn't mean you can't be the other. You haven't met the Rogue Squadron yet, but a lot of them are just as much my friends as they are allies. Allies protect each other to save their own skin, friends protect each other because they care about their friends, and friends and allies do both. It's not as different as you think." Luke put in. This answer only seemed to trouble Ken more.

"When I first read about the Rebel Alliance, Dee-Jay explained it as allies only become allies because they do not have a choice. They can either form an alliance or they will be destroyed. Friends become friends because they want to, not because they have to." Luke was, again, surprised at how much information Ken seemed to have in his head and exactly how little real comprehension he had of that information.

"It's the same thing – with alliances, you work together because you have no choice, but that still doesn't mean you can't be friends. Think of it like this: Two people have to form an alliance to survive on an abandoned planet. They have no choice, because if they don't, they'll starve, freeze, or be eaten by the predators. However, these two people have another choice – do they like each other enough to care, or are they just allies to save their own skin? Just because you have to work together doesn't mean you have to like each other, and vice versa."

Ken nibbled at his bar until it was perfectly bitten in half, then chewed pensively. When he was finished, the boy looked up at Luke, frowning.

"So, is the Force just our ally, or is it our friend, as well?"

Oh, so THAT'S what Ken had been thinking about. On one hand, Luke was tempted to tell Ken to think about it, figure out the answer on his own, but on the other, if Ken was honestly asking a question – and really thought Luke knew the answer – that wasn't something Luke could just brush off. Maybe, if he could think of a way to combine both answers... yeah, he could do that.

"Ken, there's another quality that makes people allies with each other. Alliances are formed because both people have something to gain from it, or at least they THINK they do. People become friends because they care about the other person – they don't have anything to gain from it, not really. The Force is something like that – it watches over us, aids us, gives us strength and knowledge, and asks for nothing in return."

"But, it does not have a choice to do those things." Ken said, "We call on the Force, but it never calls on us – not for help. We could never help something like the Force, not the way it helps us. So, every time we call on it, it has to answer, without a choice."

"That's not true." Luke interrupted, gently. Ken stuffed the rest of his breakfast into his mouth, chewing as Luke explained, "The Force would be able to ignore our calls, especially if it felt that we really didn't need it's help. But, most of the time, if it did, we would perish, or succumb to the Dark Side. It's just like the choice allies have – either form an alliance, or be destroyed. The Force chooses to respond to our calls because it protects us." Ken continued to frown with bewilderment, "Think of it like this – if you saw someone in trouble, would you help them?"

Ken stopped chewing, thought for a moment, then nodded, slowly.

"It's the same thing – you choose to help, but in the same way that the Force chooses to respond to our calls. You could also choose to ignore someone who needs you, but doing so would be heartless, cruel. You choose two things in deciding to help someone – both to do the right thing and to NOT do the wrong thing. That's what the Force does – it chooses to help us, because it also chooses not to abandon us."

Ken was still frowning, confused, but when he swallowed and finished his breakfast, he spoke,

"So... the Force is like a person who is powerful, wise, a loyal ally, and a compassionate guardian?" Ken asked, listing off all the traits he could remember from their discussions about the Force. Luke lifted his fingers as Ken counted them off, finally smiling a little as he realized Ken hadn't forgotten or missed something.

"Exactly. That's what the Force is, and we can always rely on it for guidance."

Ken was quiet as Luke finished his ration bar, but when he did speak up, Luke almost choked.

"Comm- I mean, Luke... does that mean the Force is like YOU?"

Luke managed to clear his airways enough to breathe before he answered.

"I... didn't mean it like THAT..." He stammered. Ken frowned again.

"You did not. I am the one who said it."

Luke quickly changed the subject, saying it was time for real training to begin and left the tent. Ken followed, once again silent and obedient. Still, Luke could feel the boy's eyes on him.

* * *

"Still can't believe she's gone..." Gwen mumbled. It had been two days since Mehgan had broken the news about Kaoln's death. The Rogues had been just as shocked at the news, then retreated to their own quarters in the base to appropriately deal with their grief. Gwen hadn't shown any sorrow, but here she was, a full forty-eight hours later, still holed up on her ship with the rum.

"Same here, and I saw her crash the ship." Mehgan agreed, taking out shot glasses. She, at least, had gotten off ship to greet the Captain of the Millennium Falcon when he got in a day after her – apparently, he was a little sore that someone else had beaten his ship, time wise, in getting to the same destination – and then register with the Alliance as a ground trooper. It wasn't much, but she could at least do some good with the few talents she had.

"How many'd she take out with her?" Gwen finally asked. Mehgan poured them both more rum – it was the last of the few bottles the Rogues had left after they took what Kaoln had obviously meant for them to have.

"Fifty. At least. She crashed herself into a Star Destroyer's gas line, so the entire thing went up in flames, and there were at least ten TIE fighters on her tail that got caught in the smokescreen and exploded with everything else." Rum had never really been Mehgan's drink, but the burn was sufficient – she needed something to get the foul taste out of her mouth. Gwen sissed, her wrinkled, pebbly face splitting into a grin.

"Princess'd be proud. And you said it waz for the hatchling, is that right?" She asked, lapping up the rum before she picked up her glass and chugged it. Mehgan winced – she knew how unpleasant chugging drinks was.

"That's what I think – whether that's really why Kaoln did it, that's something else." Mehgan said, slowly. Gwen continued sissing, clearly amused by Mehgan's uncertainty. The old Knight sighed and put her head in her hands, shaking it as she tried to clear the thoughts she was having. Gwen continued slurping at her rum, finally prodding at Mehgan with her tail,

"What'z wrong with you? Nothing can be wrong now that Princess's wishez are fulfilled." She sissed, refilling her glass. Mehgan sighed, heavily, before she started to sip her rum. It barely touched the tip of her tongue, but she felt a dry burn start to spread. Her whole mouth felt like it was fizzing as she swallowed. This was the last time she would ever drink rum – at least, straight up.

"He was so much like his mother." She mumbled. Gwen gargled her rum this time – Mehgan wondered, absently, if she was just doing it to show off, "He looks exactly like her, his voice sounds like hers, he's just as stubborn and strong-willed and eager to live – eager to do something – it was almost like having Kendalina back, even if it was for a few minutes."

Gwen sissed, slowly and softly this time, instead of the hysterical glee she had earlier. Mehgan looked up and Gwen leaned over to press a single finger right on the bone between Mehgan's breasts.

"Thiz one misses the Princess?" She asked, a remorseful amusement in her voice. Mehgan swatted Gwen's hand away, but nodded. Gwen continued sissing, "But, if you said the truth about the little Prince, I'd say that one is more like his father."

Mehgan's eyebrows rose of their own volition, but settled as she saw the logic. It was, indeed, like seeing Triclops wearing a Kendalina mask and suit to watch Kendal's behavior. Even the blasted allergy to blood was the exact same.

"That one WAZ Three-Eyes, wasn't it?" Gwen demanded when Mehgan said nothing. She smiled.

"Yes... yes, Triclops was the father." Her eyes fell to the tabletop, "And... he is so much like him, too... responsible, cautious, timid... he has the same accent, the same walk, the same expressions..." Gwen was no longer sissing.

"That one will never have evil in his veins. He is like a predator that eats plants." Her one eye narrowed in Mehgan's direction, "This one is not sure if he is really a hatchling, and not just the Princess and Three-Eyes hatched, all over again."

Mehgan said nothing to that, hand still pressed against her breastbone as though it were burning. Of course Gwen was just kidding, but the words were so eerily familiar to one of Master Yoda's lectures, long ago. That death was not something to be mourned – once someone died, they would become one with the Force, they would live on in those who were still alive. Was this what he meant? She doubted it – the Jedi didn't vouch for belief in reincarnation – but at the same time, she wondered if, just because Jedi didn't believe didn't mean that it wasn't possible. And, even if it was impossible, couldn't it be said that her spirit continued to live?

"That sounds like Kendalina, alright..." Mehgan mused, no longer paying attention to Gwen, "She's not done with the galaxy, yet."

"So..." Gwen muttered, trying to go back into conversation, "Anysing else that would interest me?"

Mehgan shrugged.

"Would a Hutt lord and his Barabel lackey taking over Cloud City interest you?" She kind of doubted it, since Kaoln and Gwen had barely cared about even the rebellion, except it paid well. Instead, Gwen's tail thumped viciously against the floor.

"What Hutt? And which Barabel?" She demanded. Mehgan frowned, but willingly supplied the information. When Gwen heard the name 'Tibor', her sissing started up again, this time like an agitated rattlesnake's instead of amused, "Sssss-cum!" She hissed, "Tibor is a traitor to us all. A dissssssgrace!"

Her tail thumped and left a dent on the seat. Mehgan didn't jump – she'd learn to expect tail-thumping when Barabels were agitated.

"You've heard of him... because he's a bounty hunter and you're a smuggler, or some other reason?" She asked, cautiously. Gwen's tail continued to thump with agitation.

"If that one will sssssssell himssssself to the likesssssss of a Hutt..." If Gwen was slurring her 'senths' that badly, Mehgan was going to guess that she was peeved about something. In a moment, though, Gwen's tail stopped thumping and she started to speak normally, "Master Retaw, do you know what these ones call invaders on Barab I?"

Mehgan frowned. Was that supposed to be rhetorical or was Gwen honestly asking? Either way, Mehgan had never really studied Barabel culture or language – let alone speak it.

"No, I don't." She finally replied, "What?"

Gwen's scaly, pebbled lips spread into a grin again.

"Prey." And her tongue flicked out to lap at the scar over her left eye.

* * *

Ken landed on his back with a thud that was tempered with a squish from the mud. Luke landed neatly on his feet next to the Jedi Prince, whom had already pulled himself up. He was panting for breath and already leaning on the tree for support – Luke had had him going through physical exercises since morning, since it was the best way Luke could think to start the training. Yoda had done much the same thing during Luke's training – though that had probably been more of a discipline thing than because of any lack of physical strength on Luke's part – so the only logical conclusion Luke could come to was that there was something to be gained from this training. Of course, to keep in line with Yoda meant Luke was going through these exercises along with Ken – Yoda had been able to strap himself to Luke's back and lecture him on Jedi lore while Luke trained, but, obviously, Luke wasn't about to ride on Ken's back.

It was always at the tree, right where Luke had set Ken to climb it, where Ken would fall. Every single day, it was exactly the same. Luke could even predict the exact point on the tree, since today he had jumped at the exact same moment Ken had let go.

'Then again, I was already a fully grown man when Yoda started training me. It doesn't really seem fair to try pushing this on a twelve-year-old.' Luke had to consider that, even before training, he had been physically capable of most of the exercises. Ken was still all skin and bones, not so much as a hint of muscle on him, even for a pre-teen. A few days of exercise weren't going to make up for who knew how many years of neglect.

'And, then again, none of those droids expected Ken to be out in the real world until he was fully grown, himself. For all I know, they were planning to start with these kinds of exercises if I hadn't showed up and taken him away.' The long and short of it was that Luke didn't know if he was taking the right course in this training, or if there was something else he should do. Every night, he thought about it, meditating on the topic and searching the Force for an answer, but he never found any real 'yes' or 'no'... just recognition of what he was doing.

Ken finished catching his breath, before he looked and Luke, then quickly looked down at his shoes. Luke knew his disappointment showed – and disappointed, he was. This was the third day in a row that this had happened. Even allowing for the age difference, Luke had expected some improvement – even the littlest bit.

"This is the third time." Ken muttered. Whether he was talking to himself or not, Luke still heard.

"Yes, it is." Was all Luke said. Ken took a deep breath – in through the nose, out through the mouth, then started back up the tree, pulling on the exact same vines as he had all the times before. Luke watched for a moment, then followed Ken up on the other side, quickly drawing level with him. He could feel more than see Ken glancing out of the corners of his eyes, watching every move Luke made. Still, they went upward, Luke continuing his lecture where he'd left off.

They started to draw up to the midpoint of the tree – the same spot that Ken always either slipped or lost balance or lost grip at, the same spot that he always fell at. Luke could hear, between the words he was speaking, that Ken was mumbling something. Luke stopped talking and climbing to give Ken a sharp look. The mumbling continued.

"Ken." The boy's grip tightened on the vine before he turned to look at Luke, "Are you listening?"

Ken frowned, then pouted.

"Yes." And he sounded almost offended that Luke had asked. Luke raised one eyebrow.

"Then, what were you muttering to yourself?" Luke pressed, trying to keep his emotions under control. Ken blinked, twice, as though hurt by the question.

"You said that Yoda once told you 'Do or do not: There is no try.' I was just reminding myself to do this time." Ken explained, looking away and up into the branches. Luke kept a sigh in – he was starting to notice a pattern with how he and Ken interacted: Ken did something to make Luke worry/ curious/ concerned, Luke asked about it, Ken gave not only a perfectly logical explanation, but one that almost made Luke feel bad for asking in the first place. It almost felt like it was on purpose.

Then, he couldn't help but wonder – what if it was? What would he do then?

Luke was even more disturbed that he couldn't think of what he would do if all this turned out to be just an act.

The next day, Ken made it up the tree without slipping, and actually completed the obstacle course Luke had been setting him on every day to build muscle. Luke took that as the best indicator that they could lay off the physical training for one day and spend the day on mental exercises. Ken was just as excited when Luke told him, so the next day, their first lesson was in using the Force to manipulate the world around them. Ken could manipulate small objects with the Force, but that was about the extent of it.

Unlike the physical exercises, Luke saw improvement on the first day of Ken's training in the Force. It brought the phrase 'The spirit is willing but the body is weak' to mind – that maybe it really was the difference between Ken's will to improve and his physical ability to do so. Luke continued to urge Ken, cautiously, step by step, through progress all day, but settled down restlessly at the end of the day, unable to understand what the difference was.

He was disturbed from his sleepless contemplation by the rustle of the tent flaps. As he turned over to see what it was, Ken was gone. Luke's hand went to his lightsaber almost immediately, the other to the flashlight. Artoo's optic sensor lit up but Luke held up a hand for silence. Cautiously, Luke lifted one of the flaps of the tent, flicking the flashlight on as he did so.

"Luke!" Ken dropped to the ground from mid-push-up and scrambled back to a more dignified sitting position, "What are you doing up?"

'I should be asking that.' Luke thought to himself. What he actually said was, "Ken. Get back over here."

Much to Luke's relief, Ken did that almost immediately, scrambling back inside the tent on all fours like an ape and staring right back at Luke despite the light being shone right in his eyes. Once the boy was back inside the tent, Luke lifted the flashlight beam so it illuminated his face. He could tell that Ken saw how peeved he was – the young Jedi Prince visibly gulped.

"Go to sleep." Again, the obedience was immediate – apparently, Luke's ghoul eyes had been enough to spook Ken into his sleeping sack and zipper it up in record time. Luke watched Ken for a moment before flicking the flashlight off and settling down, himself, "Artoo, could you stay powered on for tonight and make sure he doesn't try running away again?"

Artoo beeped an affirmative. Luke smiled a little, then zippered up the sleeping sack. Even in the darkness, his eyes were attuned enough that he could see it when Ken flipped over and stuck his tongue out at Artoo. The droid squawked something in retaliation. Luke shook his head, rolled over, and went to sleep.

The next morning was just as tense as the night before had been. Morning meditation went well enough, but Ken was not quite as talkative over breakfast. Or, at any rate, he seemed to be talking more to himself than to Luke or Artoo. Luke drummed his fingers on the box of rations, slowly putting together a few pieces in his mind before he finished his breakfast.

"Ken, have you been staying up late and doing those exercises every night since we started training?" Ken's talking immediately ceased and the boy looked in the other direction. Luke barely heard his mumbled 'no', which, combined with the sense the Force was giving him, was more than an obvious indicator that Ken HAD been, "You're still a kid – you need your sleep. And your muscles need a chance to recover from being used all day – that's how you build up your muscle strength." Ken still was pouting at the tent wall – more likely than not, the droids in the Lost City had probably given him this lecture frequently, or, at the very least plenty of similar talks that were for his own good, but just ended up as nagging.

It didn't matter, Ken quickly finished his ration bar and was out of the tent before Luke, eager to get on with the day's training despite the fact that it was raining. And get on, they did – much more easily this time than the last two days when Ken had still been yawning as they stretched and prepared for the more rigorous exercises – but Luke stopped them around midday. Instead of more muscle building or endurance tests, Luke had gotten an idea... and, if he was right, his pupil would learn and continue to progress, hopefully with no more stupid stunts.

After a midday meal, Luke set up their lesson under the protection of his X-Wing. Ken sat on a rock next to Artoo and watched as Luke retrieved a box from their supplies, then bring it under the X-Wing's body to unpack. From the inside, Luke pulled a small, gray sphere, barely bigger than his own fist and released it to float in the air. Lightsaber practice against a remote had been his first lesson with Ben Kenobi – he was starting to wonder why he hadn't used it as his first lesson with his own apprentice.

Luke didn't need to say a word about remotes – Ken had obviously recognized it, since he was already on his feet and gaping, wide-eyed, at the remote. Luke unhooked his lightsaber, holding it up in one hand.

"For starters, what do you know about lightsaber combat?" He began. Ken blinked, then shut his mouth, swallowed, then started to speak.

"I know that lightsabers have been the traditional weapon of the Jedi for thousands of years, and a few things about their basic construction, but nothing about combat." Luke allowed himself a small smile, dropping his hand to his side, then flipping the saber over.

"I'll tell you the truth right now – when I started, I didn't have a clue what to do with it. I still don't know anything about the formal theory behind lightsaber dueling, techniques or stanzas used by old Jedi Masters, or any traditional combat." Ken's eyes went wider, if that was possible. Luke extended his hand, this time, with the lightsaber hilt pointed the other way. He could see Ken's hand tremble as he took the saber from Luke's grip, and the boy's face was starting to go pale, except for his cheeks, out of excitement. Even Ken's breathing was unsteady. Luke clasped his hands firmly over Ken's to keep them steady on the lightsaber's hilt. The Jedi Prince took a deep breath, then swallowed, gaze flitting between Luke and the saber he'd pressed into Ken's hands.

"This is more than just a tool or a weapon – to a Jedi, a lightsaber is his companion, the only thing he has to defend himself against forces that might threaten him. A Jedi's connection with his lightsaber is similar to his bond with the Force – the saber will serve him, if wielded correctly, but will become dangerous in the hands of a servant of the Dark Side." Luke started. Ken looked up from the lightsaber and met Luke's gaze, not blinking through any of it. This time, Luke was certain Ken was listening to him, not just his voice, "When you complete your training, it will be your own lightsaber you build and wield and forge a bond with. But that is only if you learn and train properly. Anything less, and no matter what kind of saber you build, it will only be a blade that serves evil." Luke paused. Ken gulped, audibly. "Do you understand?"

Without breaking eye contact, Ken nodded, wordlessly. Luke smiled and released Ken's no-longer shaking hands to ruffle the boy's hair.

That was when he heard the telltale buzz from the comm system in his X-Wing. Luke stepped to the side and glanced out from under the X-Wing to see a light glowing from somewhere on the dashboard.

"Start without me, and be careful." Luke said, turning to climb up the sides of his ship as he heard the snap-hiss of his lightsaber being activated. He wasn't worried – even if Ken was careless, Artoo was down there to squawk if anything went too awry. Luke leaned into the cockpit and turned on the comm.

"Hey, kid!" It was Han, "Where are you? You just disappeared on us, and the Council's gettin' antsy about where you are." Luke smiled, even though he knew Han couldn't see it.

"Just took a little detour for some proper training time and grounds." Han muttered something on the other end that sounded suspiciously like 'pup', but Luke continued talking over him, "We'll regroup with the rest of the Alliance when they return to the base on Yavin Four. You can tell the Council I'm in the Dagobah system if they ask for anything else."

"Lotta good that's gonna do – I don't even have an entry on the Dagobah system, 'side from the fact that it exists." Han snapped. Luke frowned at the comm system – it wasn't like Han to be particularly nasty like this. What could be bothering him?

"Han..." Luke started, but a loud squealing from Artoo under the ship interrupted him, "Han, I've gotta go – I'll be in touch." With a flick of his wrist, Luke switched the comm off and dropped to the ground, spinning to see what Artoo was fussing about. Ken had dropped to the ground with the remote continuing to zap at him – not dangerous, Luke thought at first glance, before he realized the reason Ken was on the ground wasn't because of the remote, but because he wasn't breathing.

Luke pulled his lightsaber out of Ken's hands and switched it off, prompting the remote to stop firing at least. Ken's face had gone deathly pale and his lips were a purplish-blue, but the moment Luke rolled him over, the boy started coughing and gasping and breathing again. Luke let out a sigh of relief, helping Ken sit up as the pink started coming back to his cheeks and lips. His shoulders were shuddering with each breath, shivering as though from the cold but Luke could tell that wasn't it.

"Ken, are you alright?" Were the first words out of Luke's mouth as soon as the Jedi Prince was able to sit up under his own steam. Ken was still shaking, but the bob his head made was a definite nod, "Alright... what happened?"

The boy's response was less definite, this time.

"...I do not know..." Even his voice was shivering, still unsteady from being cut off from air for how long, "...I just... I could not breathe... It was like the air did not want to come into my lungs." Ken's eyes fell to Luke's lightsaber, resting on it before looking away as though the saber had stared back at him, "...Everything went cold... except my hands: They felt like they were burning... burning so hot they melted and fused with..." Ken's voice skipped and he didn't say 'lightsaber' but Luke could tell that's what he meant, "...And I could not let go..."

Luke stared between his lightsaber and his apprentice, frowning. If the boy was getting sick, the best idea would be to leave the planet right now, find the new base, and be sure he received the medical attention he needed. On the other hand, if they left the planet, reached the new base, and it turned out to be nothing – just an allergy to something in Dagobah's atmosphere... well, while that was still a good idea to get off the planet – they would have wasted valuable time training and still be no closer to understanding what had set it off.

He had to consider for a moment, before Luke finally helped Ken to his feet. Even then, he had to keep his hands beneath the boy's underarms because his knees were so unsteady. Finally, Ken braced himself against Luke, then stood on his own, still a little pale, but more spooked than actually hurt. Luke handed Ken his lightsaber, then stepped to the side.

"Start again – let's see what it was." He said. Ken's hands were trembling again – the first time, Luke had taken it for excitement, but now, he wasn't so sure – and with a little nod, he pressed the button to activate the lightsaber again. This time, Luke kept his attention focused on Ken – the moment the saber blade activated, the boy froze, entire body as rigid as a block of frozen rock, before he began shuddering again. And Luke could tell this time that his apprentice wasn't breathing, either – not from excitement, but from suffocation. Reaching out into the Force, Luke switched the saber off and drew it to him. Again, Ken immediately drew a gasping breath.

'Only when my lightsaber is activated... no, that's not it...' Luke pondered, stepping forward a little and activating the blade himself. Ken's breathing returned to normal, but he was staring at his master, more than a little confused as Luke, keeping his eye on his apprentice, weaved the blade through the air a little, then lowered it to the ground and used the tip to burn a line in the soil beneath their feet. Ken backed up a little, keeping to one side of the line Luke drew. Frown deepening into his skull, Luke finally held his lightsaber parallel to the ground and extended it to Ken.

The moment Ken's fingers closed around the hilt, it happened again. Luke deactivated the weapon without hesitating this time.

'Only when he's holding an activated blade.' This, certainly, was unusual. Luke couldn't even figure out what it was – he hadn't even thought it would be possible. And, from how even Ken was alarmed with it's effects – the Jedi Prince had retreated as far away from Luke and his lightsaber as possible and was shivering with his hands buried in his elbows – it wasn't even a side effect of Ken's over enthusiasm for something new and exciting, 'Maybe it has something to do with what lightsabers are used for, like a – what's the word for it? – psychogenic response.' But even that didn't make much sense – Ken hadn't been above ground long enough to really experience combat, and even then, he had never seen a lightsaber duel or someone killed with a lightsaber so that wouldn't be able to have an effect, even if it was.

"...Does this mean lightsaber training will have to wait?" Ken asked, in a small voice. Luke looked up – he'd been turning his lightsaber over and over in his hand, trying to think – and sighed, ever so slightly.

"Lightsaber training WILL have to wait." He agreed. Ken's shoulders slumped and his face fell, but at the same time, Luke could tell the boy was just as relieved as he was disappointed.

* * *

Day and night seemed to be one and the same on Dagobah – the only difference was brightness. The fog was always so heavy and the clouds, so thick, that sunlight just did not reach down to the planet's surface. As the clouds grew darker and darker, Luke tried to close his eyes and think over what had happened today. No matter how many times he turned it over in his head, he just couldn't understand or describe why his apprentice had, reacted so violently to holding an active lightsaber.

It bothered and bugged and nagged and no matter what Luke did, he couldn't find any way to at least put the thought to rest so he could fall asleep and be well rested for the next day. What would it be next? Would Ken react the same way when he eventually built his own lightsaber? What if it was something else – something deeper and bigger than the technology? What if he started to asphyxiate every time he tried to use the Force for anything? What if, next time, Luke wasn't there in time?

"Luke?" Luke's eyes opened. If Ken was talking, at least it meant he wasn't outside, trying to 'practice' or 'overcome' or some other boneheaded idea, "Luke, are you still awake?"

"Mm?" Luke finally managed. He could hear a clinking in the darkness – probably Ken fiddling with that necklace of his, again.

"...Something just occurred to me... what if what happened today happened because I know how dangerous lightsabers can be?" Luke had thought about that, too, but it had been shot down since Ken had never seen anyone use a lightsaber – not to his knowledge, anyway, "...Maybe, if the same thing happened whenever I tried to pick up a blaster or some other weapon, then we would know at least, right?"

Luke grunted again – he had no desire to try and experiment to find out what it was, what set it off, and what was safe. Not if the boy turned blue just holding something.

"...I just thought... because of what the lady on Bespin said..." Luke could have smacked himself – what if that woman had used her lightsaber? That would be perfectly logical, more than likely to make sense. Still, he didn't say that – he didn't want Ken to 'test' his theory.

"What?" Luke finally asked, starting to get groggy.

"...When the stormtroopers were chasing us... she shot them all down, swearing at them... and I started to panic... because I have always been told that the Jedi were the guardians of peace and justice... not killers... not people who would shoot out of anger..."

Part of Luke wanted to stop Ken right there and finish the lecture – he was at least proud that Ken had those basics cemented in – but he could tell that there was more to this story than just that.

"...I see." Ken swallowed, loudly, in the dark.

"I told her that... I know I should have controlled myself better, but I could not stop myself... I started to scream at her... I told her that she could not possibly be a Jedi Knight if she would just kill, just because she felt like it..." Luke could just imagine Ken doing that, too, little know-it-all that he was.

"I see." He repeated.

"...Then... she told me... she literally said to me... 'Your father would be so proud of you, right now'." Luke found it hard to swallow as Ken said that. The topic he'd dreaded was coming – the question of who his parents were, of where he'd come from. Luke's head started spinning with different things he wanted to say, but his throat felt thick, unable to say anything.

"...It just made me think... if my father would be proud that I understood the role of Jedi... he would have been a Jedi, too, right?" Luke couldn't respond – he wasn't sure about Ken's father, but he still knew more than Ken did. Still knew the heritage Ken came from that Ken didn't know.

"...I think... if my father was a Jedi, as well... and if he was a man who understood and honoured the Jedi's place with the Force..." Luke closed his eyes, "...Maybe my father was... Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Luke's eyes snapped back open. It was suddenly painful and raw, just thinking about Old Ben – all those years he must have known and watched over Luke, knowing who his father was the whole time. The whole time that Luke hadn't known anything, Ben had kept it all inside, waiting, trying to think of how to tell Luke, and when.

And then, when Luke had finally learned, the shock he'd felt and the betrayal that Ben hadn't told him...

"...It would make sense, would it not? And that might even be where my name comes from... from Ken-obi. And, later, he used the alias Ben, which was similar so... maybe. What do you think?"

Luke said nothing. Instead, he tried to make his breathing a little heavier, a little rougher.

"Luke?" Luke deliberately let out a breath though his nose that groaned, almost like a snore. He heard Ken shift a little, then settle back down, obviously thinking that Luke had fallen asleep.

'This is why; isn't it, Ben?' Luke thought. This was why Obi-Wan had hid behind his 'certain point of view', why he'd kept Luke from knowing, why he hadn't just told Luke in the beginning. It was painful to hear Ken ponder so wrongly about his parentage, but Luke could just imagine the agony the boy would feel if he really knew.

And Luke just didn't have the heart to do that to his apprentice.

A/N: End of chapter. Yes, the chapter title is from the Disney Lion King. Bite me.

Next chapter will be a sum up of what will come in the next chapters, not to mention that we will see heavy, heavy foreshadowing, and TRICLOPS RETURNS!


	20. Part II: Chapter 10

PRINCE

By Sapadu

Chapter 10: Think of England

The message I was told/ Was to try and find/ The joy of a lifetime

_Ken's dreams now consisted of darkness and dripping water. He could hear it echoing through the empty blackness, but where it was coming from, he had no idea. The dripping just kept going, getting quicker and quicker, louder and louder. Ken didn't know if he couldn't tell where it was coming from because it was so dark or because there was no water for him to see -- it felt like being trapped in a dark, wet, empty cave, and he had no idea if the sound was right next to his ear, or just echoing so loudly off of the empty silence that it seemed that way._

_"No way out." Ken looked over his shoulder -- he knew HE hadn't said anything. Someone else had to be here._

_"There's no way out of it. You can't escape, you can't run away. Sad, sad little puppy." Ken's dreams were all black and featureless, no ground, no walls, no roof, no sky. It was like being in a black hole. Yet, that voice had to be coming from somewhere._

"_Run away from what?" Ken called into the darkness. He was dreaming, after all – it was just a bizarre nightmare. It probably wouldn't make any sense when he woke up._

"_What are you running FROM seems to be the question to me, hrmm?" It wasn't a high voice, but it wasn't low, either. It actually didn't sound terribly Human, either. It was gravelly and it croaked, but it also grunted and growled. Ken remembered the holoclips of Yoda teaching in the Jedi Temple during the Old Order and almost heard a similar note in this voice, but it was still different. For one thing, it was far too faint – like whoever owned it was talking in his sleep or to himself._

"_I am not running from anything." Ken shouted, frustrated that the voice was just circling his question back at him._

"_Just stood there to be captured, did you? Didn't run away from danger the minute he saw it coming? We saw you – oh, but run! Run as fast as you can, little puppy. Who knows what those men in glittery dresses would do to you, hrmm? Never mind they'll just chase you; no cares for the other people who get in their way."_

_Ken shivered at the voice and what it said – he HAD run away, but that was because he had known he didn't stand a chance against them. He hadn't had a choice – it was either stay and be killed or who knew what else, or run. He'd had to run._

"_Who are you?" Ken called out. And how did it know all this? Ken had only told Luke about what happened on Tatooine, and he hadn't told him everything about what happened on Bespin._

"_We are just the same as you are – we are us, just like you are you." The voice called back. Or was it voices – it kept saying 'us' and 'we'. Did that mean there was more than one? Or was it just an odd personality quirk that forced poor grammar onto the voice – Captain Solo didn't always speak correctly, so who was Ken to say that this thing had to?_

"_And what am I, then?" Ken demanded. The convoluted, twisted conversation was starting to spook him. The voice cackled._

"_Oh, wouldn't you like to know? Sad, foolish little puppy."_

_

* * *

_

Gornash kept out of the way, but still watched intensely as Kadann moved his pieces around the chess board. Jedgar was playing against him, but more than a little distracted by Tilus, Barnaby, and Eris.

"I can't believe what IDIOTS you all are!"

Barnaby's lazy eye went in the opposite direction as his normal one raised to the ceiling, considering.

"...Actually, think we're really more like 'jerks'." He put in. Gornash watched as Kadann moved his queen forward, then watched, impassively as Jedgar took a bishop. So far, Gornash did not feel comfortable with the smug smile on Kadann's face, even at losing a piece.

"You LET him get away -- that's beyond idiocy, it's absurdity, imbecility, incompetence. You just stood there and ASKED that he would come with you? Have you no brains at all?"

"Well, come ON! He's Sithspawn AND he knows who we are -- I kinda figured he'd jump at the chance to follow us. That's kind of the whole idea behind this 'Kidnap him and use his body to bring back the old Emperor' shit, isn't it?" Eris snapped, though with much less swearing than Gornash was used to, so that obviously meant he was more shaken up about this failed plan than he cared to admit. Kadann moved his king one space to the right.

"He's OBLIVIOUS Sithspawn." Gornash muttered, more to himself than to dispute any sway the argument held. Still, he admitted that it did seem to have some power; in his mind, if nobody else's.

"Who CARES if he KNOWS? You guys all remember how crazy the Emperor was, and there were rumors in the camps that the spawn he'd locked in there with us was in there as an undercover agent; y'know, to kill off troopers who weren't doing their jobs, take out prisoners that fought back or caused trouble..." Tilus argued. Barnaby yawned, monstrously, before he added in his own two cents.

"I heard one that said he'd killed somebody when he was just a kid. If the dad and grandaddy are that bad, innit kinda in that kid's NATURE to just go along with it?"

"That's besides the point -- if you were going to go to all that trouble, at least have something to show for it! The three of you are hopeless! Worthless! A disgrace!"

"To what? The forces of evil whom we all never really wanted to serve, anyway?" Gornash frowned at the board, mostly ignoring the argument. Kadann was up to something -- in more ways than one. And, much to his chagrin, Gornash had the nasty feeling that he was using the chess board as a metaphor for his plans.

"Yet you serve them so well."

"...It just sorta turned out that way, is all."

"And there's food."

"And we get to blow shit up when we're mad."

"Speaking of blowing shit up, how'd your pitch to Boba Fett go? If he's anything as shrewd as little Lord Zuka, I can't imagine he'd be too willing to go through Skywalker just to pick up a kid for little to no pay." Mammar asked from his spot in the corner. Gornash didn't make eye contact with Kadann.

"There was no need -- apparently, he'd blasted his way out of Sarlaac some time ago." Jedgar snapped, irritably.

"Hey, Copy-Cat Eyes! What were you doing while all of us were busting our butts over this?" Tilus called over Jedgar, ignoring the lecture completely. Gornash didn't look up from the chess board -- he could tell that if anyone knew that he'd, essentially, sold information to the only living Jedi Knight, there would be very serious Hell to pay.

"Getting lost." He lied. Kadann's smirk grew wider, as Jedgar returned his attention to the game and moved his queen to take a pawn.

"Now, now -- let's not fight, boys." Kadann finally said, mildly. Jedgar had only just finished moving his queen, before Gornash suddenly realized that it had been a vital mistake -- Kadann's knights, rooks, and a bishop were all placed so that no matter what Jedgar did, he was going to lose his queen, "If we can't go to our new Emperor, we shall just have to find a way to make him come to us."

Nobody said a word as Kadann continued to stare at the board, as though marveling at his own brilliance in trapping Jedgar's queen. Now that Gornash looked at it, he could see that almost all of the pieces Jedgar had were in check from some piece or another -- the pawns were all gone, the bishop had a knight in check, the rooks could be used either to capture the queen if she moved or one of Jedgar's bishops or another knight, and Kadann's own queen could easily take the rook in the furthest corner.

"The first thing we need to do is move a pawn out -- easy bait, no one can resist it. And once we have everything in place, the rebels will find themselves with a spy in their midst."

* * *

_"Maybe they wouldn't have had to die if there was nothing to die for." The voice was getting louder. Not just that, but it sounded more solid, less like an echo. It reverberated in his ears, but as though he was the only one who COULD hear it, "Maybe there never should have been a little Prince. Just get yourself in trouble for him, hrmm?"_

_If he'd been awake, Ken would have started moving -- running away from the voice or gone looking for it, he wasn't sure -- but now, he was frozen in place, unable to do anything but look around, over his shoulders, and hope that the voice either showed itself or went away._

_"Never should have left home, should you? Should have stayed buried alive. Better that way, hrmm? Safer that way; not get hurt, no one else gets hurt, hrmm?"_

_"Who is that? Where are you?" Ken finally shouted into the darkness._

_"Such a scary place for the sad little puppy. Maybe he shouldn't be out here, all alone, nobody knows where you are?"_

_"I am not all alone -- Commander Skywalker is with me."_

_"But for how long, hrmm? Maybe he notices everyone else dying around you, just to see the sad little puppy kept safe. Maybe he'll be running off, too. Maybe he's scared he'll be next."_

_Ken felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. It took everything he had to take a deep breath and shout back a retort._

_"Commander Skywalker is braver than that, and he's a good man. He'd never abandon a student or a friend." Ken heard something behind him -- something like a thump of something hard and heavy against a stretched sheet of cloth. He looked over his shoulder._

_It was a person... if it really could be called that. It had a human shape, but it squatted on its haunches, knuckles resting on the ground like an ape. The thing was holding something over it's face in the other hand -- almost like a mask, except it looked so little like a real face that Ken wasn't sure if it could be called that, with it's exaggerated pockmarked cheeks, pointed beard, and bulging eyes._

_"Why're we chasing this kid all over the galaxy, anyway? What'd we need him for so much, anyway -- can't just kill him next time we see him? Just set him on fire like all the others?" It was the same voice as the man called 'Noma' that Ken had run away from so many weeks ago on Tatooine. Ken let out a squeak and jumped backwards, only to hear a new voice -- one that sounded like the fat man who had been with Noma._

_"Maybe we could just eat him and the Skywalker brat when we find them again." It was the same creature, just holding another completely inaccurate mask over its face again, "Not give them a chance to run, have it over and done with."_

_Ken felt the skin on his back rise and tingle with cold fear. And afraid, he was; those men had killed a whole street full of innocent people just to be sure that they would catch him and what had Ken done? Stood there and gaped, then run away with Artoo at his heels. Worse than that, Ken hadn't even been able to defend himself; Artoo and Luke had done all of that, while he mostly screamed and ran._

"_Run and run and run. Run for your life, foolish little puppy." All Ken could see was the mask, empty on the ground, but the voice moved around him, as though the thing was hopping around behind his back, where he couldn't see it, "You can't escape yourself, no matter how fast you go. Still a sad, scared, helpless little puppy, no matter where you go."_

"_I will not ALWAYS be helpless. That is why I am training." Ken forced himself not to curl up into a ball._

"_Oh, yes – keep hiding behind Skywalker. See how long until he gets tired of the little game. See if he doesn't toss the little puppy out on his tail. We know too well – he can run away from a useless failure. Too bad his little pet can't run away, not even from his own tail." The thing cackled, sounding both more and less Human at the same time._

"_I am NOT hiding!"_

"_Cower in his shadow. Watch him like a God. Wait and scream for him to save you. Pretend you're learning, but really just sitting and stewing, hoping you'll wake up one morning and see his face in the mirror, not yours. That's all you're really doing, hrmm? We know – we can see what you're thinking."_

"_You're wrong." But the words were so hollow, Ken could have snapped them in two and used them as straws. He didn't know how, but he did know the creature had hit a sore spot. It was just what Ken had been afraid of – that Luke's disappointment in him, the long silences, the lack of reply when Ken spoke or asked questions; that all of it was because he could tell Ken was trying, desperately, to become an equal to him. _

_What if that was why Ken COULDN'T do it? What if that was why he was always two steps behind Luke, no matter how hard he trained, no matter how much effort he put into it?_

"_Says the little puppy as he curls up with his tail between his legs."_

_

* * *

_

Scardia was cold -- icy cold, and completely empty. Probably because, since it was so old and had been left out here in the Null Zone for so long, everything had just fallen apart. The climate control systems didn't work, plain and simple, and so few other things actually functioned. The only real things that functioned were the few engines that enabled the station to move from system to system -- but they were so feeble that they probably wouldn't last to even a civilized world, and even if they did, the station had no shields or landing gear -- and the air scrubbers.

It was a far cry from the blue skies full of fresh, warm air and beautiful pastures of the planet Gornash had grown up on.

'How are things back home?' Gornash mused, staring out through the window as he traced a star on the floor with his finger. There was nothing to trace it with, and Gornash's fingers were numb and dry, so there weren't even any imprints from the oil on his hands. Nobody would see it. That was fine with him -- it had been because he'd worn one of these stars that the troops had known to take him when the transports came.

Staring out into space like this, Gornash couldn't help but feel terribly small and insignificant. Who cared about a lost little boy in a galaxy made of hundreds of thousands of stars and planets? It was just a tiny, infinitesimally unimportant piece of the galaxy. So a few people might care -- the planets wouldn't care, or the stars or the other thousands of different minerals that composed the universe. Gravity wouldn't suddenly reverse, rotations and revolutions would continue onwards, time wasn't going to grind to a halt. Not over a single person disappearing.

'Protect him. When the time comes.' The words still bothered Gornash. He knew who had asked him, now -- unless, of course, someone else out there had decided to impersonate the real Emperor's son, but given the specimen he was, Gornash had no idea who would want to do that -- but it didn't make sense why he would ask Gornash of all people. Because they were 'the same'? How? What did he see that was so 'similar'? Gornash didn't know, but he wasn't sure if he WANTED to know or not. On one hand, it would at least give Gornash an answer to his questions.

On the other hand, he could remember asking, over and over, what happened to his family. He hadn't liked the answer 'The Children's Father' had given him. Where was that man now, anyway? Was he still alive or had they burned him just like everyone else? He doubted the doctor would have let his best bookkeeper and caretaker of 'His children' be executed like all the others, but who knew? Gornash put a hand over his left arm and squeezed -- it was starting to ache; from the cold or from something else, he wasn't sure.

Then, there was still the fact that, unknowing of his reasons, unknowing of any answers, Gornash had gone out of his way to do what he'd been asked. Sure, part of it was to spite Kadann and Jedgar -- he couldn't wait to see their faces when they found out, too late, that all their well-laid plans had gone straight down the gutter. But that would take some time and very careful preparations to see. Not to mention that he could always get CAUGHT and that would make the enjoyment a lot harder to savor.

He'd told Skywalker it was for the laws in the Torah, but he'd never followed those really well, not to mention that his father dragging him to church just the day after going to synagogue with his mother had taught Gornash that there really wasn't any 'He-whose-name-is-so-exalted-it-must-not-be-uttered' out there. Even if there was, obviously Gornash wasn't one of his 'Chosen Ones', not after...

There was a knock. Gornash was glad he kept his door locked so that nobody could see him jump when he heard those noises.

"Hey, Copy-Cat-Eyes! Open up!" Gornash growled, then stood up, staggering over to the door with dizziness, and flipping the switch till it opened. Tilus and Barnaby were both waiting for him. Tilus looked eager, but Barnaby just looked irritated that the round man had dragged him out of bed.

"We had bad dreams, can we sleep with YOU?" Tilus asked.

"Hey, just 'cuz I couldn't sleep doesn't mean you had to drag me out here -- I'd've conked out eventually if you'd just left me alone." Barnaby growled. Gornash closed his eyes, breathed, and was even more displeased when it didn't work.

"I'm not your mothers -- why do you come to ME with these things?" He demanded. Tilus started trying to nudge his way into the room. Gornash stepped on him.

"But you're the only one of us who actually acts like a grown man." Tilus whined, sucking on the finger Gornash had stomped on. Gornash's eyes narrowed with displeasure.

"Don't say 'grown' as an adjective unless you put 'fully' before it or 'up' after it -- it makes you sound un-edicated." He sneered.

Gornash only was allowed to sleep after having fought off a particularly irate Tilus, that night.

* * *

"Can't say I ever thought I'd see you like this." Mehgan's eyes opened, then shut almost immediately. The hangover was in full swing – her head felt like someone had drilled a hole in through a temple, then poured melted copper down through a funnel, and THEN set a current through it. Still, hangovers, she could handle. The glowing blue of the holoprojector, however, was not very welcome.

"...Hoosit?" She mumbled, covering her eyes with her hand and groaning as she turned over. The voice emitting from the holo chuckled.

"Maggie." Mehgan sat up so quickly that she bumped her head on the wall, then almost fell over from the dizziness. It wasn't a holo – it was a blue, glowing Force-ghost. She'd read about them, but never – absolutely never – expected to see one, in person.

That was with good reason – after all, Force-ghosts only appeared from DEAD people, and usually only to those close to them. Mehgan had been grateful that nobody close to her had ever been dead enough for a ghost.

'Now, however, it's different.' Mehgan realized as she found herself staring at the bemused smile of Depa Billaba.

"...Depa?" She was sitting, cross-legged, on the dejarik table, looking for all the world like a glowing hologram. It was exactly like she'd been in life – regal and composed and self-bearing. Mehgan stared at her friend for a long, long moment, before a choke came up to her throat, "...Oh..."

The smile on Depa's face faded, her eyes growing sad. Mehgan hadn't realized until now exactly how much she'd missed her friend.

"There were few Jedi who survived the Purge. I was not one of them. You are. Find comfort in that much." Depa spoke before Mehgan could begin blubbering. The words didn't comfort Mehgan at all – in fact, she found them every bit as cruel and unfair as everything else in life had been.

"It should be the other way around. I was passed over by coincidence – because I'd been formally expelled years before, because I'd never been very important to the Order, because I'd been a joke as far as all the Knights went. You should have been able to escape. You were wise and skilled; you should have been..." Depa gently interrupted Mehgan's rambling.

"I take it you never heard from the Masters what befell me before my death." Mehgan took a deep breath – she wasn't crying, not yet – and shakily explained that she had heard. She'd been told about Depa's mission, about her fall to the Dark Side, about her descent into a coma; apparently, that had left her vulnerable when the Order Fell, "I wasn't wise enough to stop myself from turning to the Dark Side. I wouldn't have been wise or strong enough to stand even the slightest chance against Padawan Skywalker."

Mehgan put her head in her hands and wished the hangover would go away.

"There's so much I've done wrong as a Jedi... it feels like I don't deserve the title, like I don't even deserve to be Force sensitive."

"There are many things that many Jedi have done wrong and each and every one of those Jedi were sitting on the Council when it fell." Depa's voice crashed over Mehgan's mind like the drum of a refreshing rainstorm on the canopy of a forest. It permeated into her head and soaked its way down through the rest of her being, cooling the hot, angry guilt and disturbing the restless pools of despair that had been stagnating in her mind for so long.

"A Jedi learns, not through never making mistakes, but by making more mistakes than his peers and growing with each lesson." Mehgan mumbled. Depa's smile began to grow, again.

"Speaking of those Jedi who made mistakes..." She started. Mehgan looked up, one cool hand pressed to the side of her head where the pounding was worst, "Master Windu has learned from some of the mistakes he made."

Mehgan put her hand down, excitement at the mention of her old Master's name setting aside her pain for the moment.

"He wishes to make amends. For what he did to you, personally, if not professionally." Depa paused, then the corner of her mouth twitched upwards in a stronger smile as she watched Mehgan's expression, "He felt it would be a little... callous... if he said so, himself."

Mehgan allowed herself a small, albeit pained, smile.

"You two have always been very dear to me." It was as close as she would come to saying she forgave anyone. Though, closer to the truth would be to say she had never really held a grudge against Master Windu. The corner of Depa's mouth continued to twitch.

"As dear as Padawan Orewahime?" She asked, voice solemn and quiet in contrast to her expression. Mehgan didn't reply, instead choosing to look down at the tabletop. Her headache seemed even more acute than it did before.

"...What was meant to happen, happened. There's no reason for me to obsess over what wasn't." She mumbled. It was a rehearsed line – one she'd been telling herself over and over since the aching part of her that missed Kendalina and Triclops had been stabbed at by the Prophets of the Dark Side. She sincerely doubted – and just as sincerely hoped – that she would never see them again, but she hadn't been able to stop herself from repeating the argument with them in her head, each time trying to find an answer that would make them shut up and go away.

"Wise words like that are only wise when they are not spoken out of despair." Mehgan almost jumped out of her skin before she looked up and saw a second figure – this one standing behind the table, hands resting on his hips in a stern posture, and not a day older than the day the Order had fallen and his death.

"...I meant no disrespect, Master Windu." She stammered. Master Windu shook his head.

"It's not in your nature to say such things. You're letting this affect you, personally, and as such, it's taking a toll on how you will deal with situations that arise." His face and voice were both as unrepentant and unsympathetic as they ever were. It was actually kind of a relief that his death hadn't changed his personality in the least.

"...I... I guess..." Mehgan had to stop and clear her throat, unsure of why it was cracking with each word. Master Windu's heavy brow lifted -- still stern, but no longer scolding and harsh.

"You miss your apprentices." Mehgan looked down at the table, unable to meet her master's eyes as he spoke.

"Triclops wasn't an apprentice." She mumbled, not really caring that it was an irrelevant point.

"Maybe not as a Jedi, but as a person, he most certainly was." Master Windu said, simply. Mehgan traced a pattern in the tabletop, still avoiding his gaze with shame. To her surprise, the words seemed to spark something... well, not as painful as she expected; like a healing salve that stung on open wounds, but relieved their direct pain.

It also made her wonder if that was why she hadn't been able to keep Kendal -- why she had gone to all that trouble to wrestle him away from Skywalker, just to send him right back. All because she just couldn't stand to see so much of both his parents in him.

"The Council used to harp on you so much for being too attached... in reality, it might have been that attachment that saved a few lives along the way." Depa noted, as though she could read Mehgan's thoughts. Mehgan shook her head.

"But, we'll never know if more lives might have been saved if I'd actually done my job and kept to the code." She muttered. Both Depa and Master Windu's frowns were practically audible, even if Mehgan wasn't looking up to see them.

"Maggie, are you still drunk?" Depa finally asked. Mehgan shrugged.

"Maybe." It would certainly explain a lot.

"Get some water -- this isn't so urgent that it can't wait for you to rehydrate." Then again, that was Master Windu, practical and concerned for his students as ever. Mehgan heaved herself to her feet, sliding out of the booth and stumbling to the tap for some liquid salvation.

* * *

"_It would have been so easy, too." The creature was back. Ken was beginning to dread falling asleep, because it came to him every time, taunting him as he dreamed, "Just stay there – just stand, let them take you. It would have been over so quickly."_

"_Go away." Ken mumbled, cringing away from the voice._

_"If so many people are chasing after this kid, maybe it's not such a good idea to drag him back into the base. What if the whole place goes up in smoke because he's there? I ain't giving up my ship or my skin just for a little pup!" Again, Ken looked over his shoulder to see a mask of Captain Solo's face, matched with his voice coming from the creature's gullet._

_"How do we know that our soldiers would be safe if there are bounty hunters tracking him? I think it would be better to make sure we can be safe before we take a risk with him -- there's too much to put at stake if other people die because he leads the Empire and assassins to our base." This time, it was in front of Ken, wearing a mask like Princess Leia's face. If Ken had any sense, he would have kicked the creature and scrambled backwards and away. As it was, all he could really do was cringe as far away as possible._

_"Perhaps it would be safest to just leave him here. He's been nothing but trouble since we found him, and if Han and Leia are in danger because of a mistake that I made, the least I can do is try and correct it. And who knows who might die next, just on accident, because I didn't do something to stop it? What if it's one of the Rogues, or a general? What if it's Han or Leia or Chewie, or what if I lose the droids and can never fix them? It might be unfair, but at least nobody will get hurt that way." And now, it was Luke's face. Ken screamed._

_"There is no way. He would never... he could not possibly." The mask of Luke Skywalker's face split and fell off, only to show the creature under it. It looked Human, almost Human, but it's features were disfigured, it's neck curved like a monkey's, as two impossibly bright and wide eyes gleamed at him and thin lips pulled back into a leer._

_"But they're all only human. Just care about their own skins, no need to worry about anyone else. Just like you did, hrmm? Just to protect his own skin." The creature sneered, "Yes -- cowardly things, wicked things; never caring; always scheming, always lying."_

_"Shut up!"_

_"But maybe that's not it -- maybe they know what's going on. They know and just think 'wait and see what he does'? Tricky, tricky..." The thing cocked its head to the side, like a doll with a broken neck, "And those silences. Every word you say, he says nothing. Maybe hiding something, hrmm?"_

_"SHUT UP!"_

_"But keep on -- no poison in the little puppy's food tonight, lucky you! Maybe it'll be in two nights -- leaves you with tomorrow, and you might be lucky then, too, hrmm?"_

_"STOP IT!"_

_"Much easier to pretend this is safe -- easier to ignore all those calls he's been making. Sure he's not planning to throw you into a prison cell when he takes you back, hrmm? Happier to pretend everything is fine. Easier to ignore it."_

_"GO AWAY!"_

_The creature hunched up, then hopped out of the way, landing on all fours just a few feet away. Instead of speaking or calling, it just laughed, a creepy, crazy, insane cackle. Still sneering at Ken, it continued to hop backwards, its voice growing distant and echoing even more as it vanished, leaving only the old blackness. Still, Ken heard one last word before he woke up,_

_"I'll be back."

* * *

_

_"Hey, boy! Get your ass up and help me figure out what we're supposed to be looking for." Viro shouted. Triclops remained in a reclined position with his legs folded, as though meditating on something._

"_There is something not right." He finally said. Viro resisted the urge to roll his eyes._

"_Brilliant insight – any other wisdom you wanna bestow on us?" He snapped. Triclops' eyes opened._

"_...When I See the future... there is something missing." In the floor under them, a vision appeared. Viro leaned against a wall that he'd conjured up out of nowhere and watched, absentmindedly – he'd lost interest in this whole 'See the future' business long ago. Besides, most of the time, dreams worked on metaphors – not a terribly accurate way to foretell the future._

_What Triclops had summoned was a scene of ruin – a background of barren, rocky wasteland, scorched by sun and wind and acidic rainstorms. There were bones and carcasses of dead and semi-dead creatures lining a cavern of treacherous rock and sand, a single figure standing upright in the middle of all the carnage. In one hand was a lightsaber, glowing green but turning slowly to red. In the other hand, the figure held up a human body by the throat, its face scarred and burned down to the gristle and sinew._

_Viro raised an eyebrow, staring down at the scene before he noticed exactly who the killer was – all the same features as Kendalina, from the brown hair to the slender figure to the aggressive stance. Then, he turned._

_And his eyes were the color of molten gold._

_Triclops pushed the vision away. Viro contemplated saying something, before he finally settled on an eloquent,_

"_Ouch." Triclops said nothing to this, "...So, the kid's gonna turn. Sorry."_

"_That is not what concerns me." Triclops said, quietly. Viro raised his eyebrows and refrained from commenting on what a horrible father that made him, "...Where was Skywalker?"_

_Of all things, Viro hadn't been expecting that one._

"_...Um... maybe he was in the corpses." He suggested. Considering that they'd essentially just seen a vision of Triclops' only son going berserk and destroying what looked like the entire world, it seemed the most likely. Triclops frowned._

"_...It seems unlikely that someone who was able to defeat the Emperor would die so easily." He said. Viro shrugged._

"_In any case, I thought we'd decided to go hunting for Mr. Personality – if he's been selling info out to the bastards keeping us in a cell, him suddenly disappearing isn't a good sign."_

_Triclops held up a hand._

"_We should wait." Viro did a comical double-take before before he stood straight up and started shouting. Triclops remained passively on his knees, "If Skywalker is not involved with this vision, then we should remain on guard. To see what causes it."_

_Viro calmed down, almost instantaneously._

"_Oh... oh THAT'S what's bugging you about this." He realized. Triclops said nothing, instead returning to watch those visions of his._

"_If the future cannot be changed, then we must learn what we can before a new future becomes preordained."

* * *

_

Training was going better. At least, that was all Ken could assume. Luke had decided against lightsaber training, sure, but that didn't stop him from taking his lightsaber apart and teaching Ken how to assemble one. That had only taken a day, especially given that Ken had studied all of the mechanical parts of lightsaber construction long ago.

Time continued to pass as Ken continued to learn. They studied mental exercises, telekinesis, Force control of the surroundings, manipulation and resistance to manipulation, battle melds, and a number of other techniques that Ken had never thought he would be able to learn. He exercised daily, building muscle and gaining weight. Each night, he and Luke talked about the things they'd meditated on during the day and Ken continued to ask questions, not just about his training, but about life among normal people. Luke's answers were always, always concise. With Artoo's help, they started to look at Chip's circuits and see what damage needed to be repaired; none of it could be done while on Dagobah, but it was better than going in without any ideas.

The creature returned in his dreams, each night. It taunted him, sneered at him, whispered insidious, horrible things in his ear. Ken said nothing about it during the day, partly because he was certain that if he thought about them during the day, he'd come up with something to repel the creature on his own, partly out of shame that he hadn't been able to just brush off the doubts the moment the creature spoke to him.

Besides, Ken was Luke Skywalker's apprentice – what was the worst that could happen?

* * *

_Triclops had never seen real plant life before. Coruscant had been a completely paved over planet, the only vegetation coming from the gardens in the Temple, and that didn't really count since REAL plants grew up from the soil they had been planted in, not pots or beds prepared by human hands._

_Watching the two figures in his vision as they sat in the grass and tried to whistle on blades that they held between their fingers, Triclops wasn't sure if the twang in his chest was bitter and sorrowful, or strangely content to see someone else's experience. The fields were covered in a dark brown patch of tuber crop that made the soil glow warmly in the sun, surrounded by a halo of pure green, as though just after a rainfall. The crop was small – barely even an acre – enough that Triclops could see the house and barn sitting on a riverbed. Not just an experience: This farm had been someone's home._

_The two of them were both children – both boys, both with dark, short hair, both barefoot and covered in dust from the fields they'd been working in. One wore pants and a shirt with sleeves and legs rolled up, the other fidgeting in a hoop skirt and eying his brother, enviously._

"_Who dresses their kid up as a girl, anyway?" Viro snorted, even though Triclops could tell he was enjoying himself. Triclops continued watching._

"_Some old religions would require couples to have a set of children – one boy, one girl, and it became tradition that parents who had identical twins would dress one up as a girl to protect them from being killed when inspections came around. Even if the practice of killing extra boys died off centuries ago, once a tradition becomes ingrained, few things can shake it." He refrained from adding 'Now, shut up and watch the show'. _

_Speaking of the show, it was evolving, as though put in a fast-forward motion. The sun set and the moon rose, only to set and the dawn to break all too quickly. The grass and crop changed colors, as though the season was starting to change -- instead of bare soil for a root crop, it was a grain crop that glittered like gold. Triclops could see the same boy going through the grains that stood easily over his head, pulling a hoe behind him and taking weeds from between the rows with it. Behind him, there was a man running -- there was no way he could have been anything but the father, given he had the boy's hair and face -- carrying a bag of fertilizer over his shoulder. By the door of the house, the other son, trussed up in girl's skirts, was rocking a barrel back and forth, still watching his brother._

_"...Is there a reason we're watching this? In'nt kinda cheesy?" Viro asked, laying down and spinning until he was watching the scene upside-down. Triclops cocked his head, like a cat pausing over the paw print of a larger animal inside his territory, frowning._

_"...The crop..." Viro didn't say anything, looking between Triclops and the vision spread across their dreamscape, "...There is only one form of crop in a single acre. The most economical way of farming would put at least two different kinds of crop on the field at the same time. With only one acre, the farmer would have no choice, but economize. Instead, this man chose to keep within his budget by using low-tech, cheap equipment, instead of buying machinery that most other farms would use."_

_"What's your point? Or, are you just playing detective to screw with me? 'Cuz, it's working." Viro asked, arching his back off the ground and stretching it. Triclops turned._

_"Know your enemies, but know your allies, better."_

_"That's not how it goes." Disgusted, Triclops turned his back on Viro, still watching._

_The peaceful scene changed from a farm to a picture of flooded plains and washed out vegetation, the entire ground left as mud and rock. Instead of the two boys and their father out planting crops, Triclops saw two men in gray uniforms strode across the landscape and knocked on the door of the house. Behind the door was a woman, also in a hoop skirt, with a striped, tasseled shawl over her head._

"_Boy, this is getting boring. Can you change the channel?" Viro whined. Triclops ignored him, instead inspecting the woman, curiously._

"_She's a Jewel."He muttered. Viro sat up, a bit more attentively._

"_...You mean, like Julian? One of those old, underground religions from Alderaan? Why're we seeing some Jewel woman in this guy's dream?" Viro asked. Triclops frowned, unsure of an answer, before the image froze._

"_For one thing, it's pronounced 'Ju-le', not 'Jewel'." Spat an irritable voice before the vision disintegrated and left a very irritated Gornash standing where the picture had been. His green eyes were flared, pupils dilated, and face white as flour with rage. Viro skittered backwards._

"_Whoops... um, laters." Which left Triclops alone with the man whose dream they had just been spying on. Not that this particularly concerned Triclops – it WAS his dreamscape after all, and manipulating the environment was mostly just willing it to change._

"_Get out." Gornash snarled. Triclops didn't move, simply staring back, impassively._

"_You were a farmer boy, before this." He said. Gornash closed his eyes and when they reopened, they were a fiery shade of crimson, pupils like thick black X-es._

"_I want you out of my head." He was starting to shout. The walls of Triclops' dream started to shift, like they were forming into solid blocks and closing around the two of them like a box. Still Triclops remained where he was._

"_And because of your mother's religion, you were forced to leave your home under some pretext of the Clone Wars." The fact that Gornash was getting angrier as Triclops spoke only seemed to stem from the fact that he was right. The walls continued to close in, spikes sprouting out from their sides._

"_Now!" It was an order, but Triclops continued to ignore it._

"_Then, when the Republic fell and the Empire took over, you and all of your community were captured and sent to the Spice Mines." The walls stopped, "The Mines that were really prisons, factories for making anyone undesirable disappear."_

_Gornash's eyelids were starting to shudder. Triclops rolled up his sleeve and bared his left forearm._

"_The prisons where you lost your brother."_

_By now, those walls that Gornash had been threatening to crush Triclops with had all but dissolved. That left Gornash staring, mutely, at Triclops, hands balled into fists and arms shaking._

_"Why do you care? Why is it so important to you what happened to me that you feel the need to spy on my private thoughts -- on my dreams, my memories -- just so you can find a new piece in some big puzzle? It doesn't affect you, it isn't something you can change, the only reason you could possibly have to want answers is simply because you crave information so badly, that you don't even care what you have to do to get it." Gornash was still shouting. Triclops remained perfectly silent until he was finished._

_"Given that I am placing the life of someone very important to me in your hands, I would say it is more responsible of me than it is not to be sure I have not misplaced my trust." Gornash furiously rolled up his sleeve and lifted his own arm to Triclops' face._

_"Trust? TRUST? I don't WANT your trust! I didn't ASK you for this job -- frankly, I'd like to be dead right now, rather than here, so excuse me for not wanting any of this extra work you've placed on my head; for betraying this trust you expect from me just because you happened to survive the same hell I did how many years ago. If you had any IDEA what was going on in the barracks I was placed in..."_

_"You were in the experimenting ward." Triclops interrupted, putting a hand over the numbers on Gornash's forearm, almost frantically. His voice remained level, "Most of the prisoners were sent to the Spice Mines -- the only difference between them and the real slaves were the rations, medical care, and the fact that, if you somehow survived for too long, there were always the showers that the guards could use. You and I, however, were put in the barracks nearest to the medcenters; the fake medcenters, which they used to conduct experiments. That is why, instead of black eyes that come from Julian heritage, you have green. That is the reason all of your partners in crime have abilities that are something more than Human."_

_Gornash said nothing. He was staring at Triclops with a mixture of disgust and terror. Triclops didn't make any comment – he was busy trying to analyze what this silence meant from Gornash._

"_...Do you ENJOY doing this?" The younger man demanded, finally. Triclops merely raised an eyebrow._

"_...This? I certainly enjoy solving mysteries and putting the end to questions that have no answers. And, as I have been curious about you since minute one, I would say I enjoy fulfilling that curiosity."_

_Gornash's pupils shrank from their X-shapes down to normal size, the color changing back to a vivid green. If it was possible, he looked even more terrified and revolted than before._

"_You don't care." He spoke quietly, as though to himself, "... I have only seen one man so cold and callous and calculating of other living creatures... JUST one..."_

_Triclops didn't physically react._

"_...An eye-twitch... Rapid, shallow breathing; sweating; pallor... All indicative of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder... I expected something of this sort; it IS common in escaped, released, or rescued slaves. And, given the experiences in those camps, especially given how much you must have lost by being sent there..." Triclops noted, "...But that kind of mental state is unstable, at best. It would only be a matter of time before something set you off and you lost control of yourself – a hazard for you and everyone around you."_

_Gornash's eyes narrowed into a fierce glare. Triclops could see anger and fear and disgust all mixed together, like throwing sulfur and iron together on a flame._

"_...Your father would be very proud of you, Your Excellency." If Gornash's earlier words had been designed to sting, these were meant to stab and gouge. Triclops' mouth opened, but Gornash didn't give him a chance; the walls rose a second time, this time sealing around him and pushing him straight out of the dream._

_Abruptly, he found himself laying on his back, staring up at Viro._

"_You just got booted out of a dream by a kid – how's that for bad?" He asked. Triclops didn't answer -- he was still in something akin to shock.

* * *

_

"You're not the only one who sees some of Padawan Orewahime in that boy." Mehgan was still reclined on her back, a pack of ice on her temples. While drinking lasted one day, some hangovers could be classified as multi-day events. Mehgan hadn't believed it when Kaoln told her that, but now, it made perfect sense. That didn't stop Master Windu from reappearing.

"Am I also not the only one who wishes she DIDN'T?" She mumbled. Master Windu raised his eyebrows.

"Is that for your own comfort or for some other reason?" He asked, ever the patient teacher. Mehgan just shrugged.

"...Maybe it's both." She was still mumbling, "I mean, Kendalina was a genius -- a licensed medic by eleven, a Knight by thirteen -- the kind you only see once in a century. Once in a lifetime. Her son is just... just a normal, if lonely, twelve-year-old kid."

Master Windu was silent, waiting for Mehgan to make a point out of her argument.

"If nothing else, I can't help but think about what Kendalina would have wanted. I think she would have at least wanted her own child to have a choice in what he grew up as... But putting all that pressure on him... it wouldn't be fair, not when he doesn't stand a chance -- nobody does."

"So certain, are you?" Mehgan would have been surprised, except she had kind of expected Master Yoda to show up at some point. Instead, she settled for lethargically turning her head and staring.

"Master Yoda, how long were you in training to be a Knight? How long was Master Yaddle? How long was I?" She continued to mumble -- it was as though her lips just didn't want to open, "Compared to all of us, Kendalina completed her training as a baby. It was as though she'd come out of the womb, ready to be a Jedi."

"You're setting too little faith in that boy. Not to mention that, for all her talents, Padawan Orewahime had many short-comings. Serious ones, too."

"If she heard you right now, she'd kick your ass for calling her 'short'." Mehgan chuckled, before she remembered that that is exactly what Master Windu had been talking about, "Her temper, her stubbornness, her rash impulses."

"All hinderances to making her the greatest." Master Yoda agreed, leaning on his stick. Why did he still have that thing, anyway? He was dead -- he didn't need a stick to walk with.

"But she turned them all to her advantage. It kept her from ever even coming close to the temptation of the Dark Side, it made her stronger, it made her able to never give up, no matter what." Mehgan continued. All of these traits, she was certain she would never see again in a living being.

"She could protect herself, yes." Master Windu agreed, "But what about those around her?"

Mehgan sat bolt upright at these words.

"A Jedi does not live for himself. Ours is a purpose higher than just how we want to live -- to serve, to protect, to save those around us. Not to take advantage, even if it is to stop ourselves from falling to the Dark Side."

Mehgan gaped at her old Master, jaw working to try and find something to argue, but no words came out. Instead, she looked away, curling up and bringing her knees to her face.

Master Yoda cleared his throat.

"At first, was Padawan Orewahime like that." He agreed, "But, if Master Windu remembers how she became a Knight, not always."

Mehgan turned a little to stare, uncomprehending, as Master Yoda reminded Master Windu of Kendalina's own, obstinate mantra that had set her apart from the other padawans and Jedi in the Temple.

"...If it's for my Padawan, I can do anything." Mehgan muttered, more to herself than to either of her old teachers. She could. She had to. And she would.

But how?

* * *

_Gornash didn't enjoy dreaming. The memories he summoned up from his dreams were bitter, and the nightmares were horribly, horribly fresh. Both kinds were wounds, raw and burning and they made him ache, pain for a release from this pathetic form of flesh._

_At the same time, it was all he had. From his brother's laughter to his father's voice to his mother's hands. From the loud, hearty, crowded aunts and uncles and grandparents and great-grandmother on his father's side, to the quieter, modestly, but still packed cousins and aunts and uncles and second cousins and aunts and uncles once or twice removed and grandfather on his mother's side, and the memories of days when all of them would be packed into one house, hardly able to breathe. Even the memories of his father's mother berating all of his mother's family as heretics and 'Cristo-killas' and the entire Julian family spitting back nasty curses in Hebian at her seemed welcome._

_"It usually is the matriarchs who hold the real power in the home, is it not?" Gornash scowled before he even turned to glare at Triclops, who was staring at the image of the dream without even noticing Gornash._

_"Why are you here?" He snarled. Triclops sat down and leveled his gaze to meet Gornash's eyes._

_"To extend an apology." He said, simply. Gornash turned fully around and considered the proposal._

_"For what?" He finally asked._

_"To start, for invading your dreams and not complying with your wishes when you told me to leave." Triclops lifted one finger, "For expecting cooperation and compliance without regard for your wishes." A second finger, "And for my callous attitude in regard to your situation."_

_Gornash thought for a moment._

_"Very well." He finally replied, wondering if he should try shouting at the man again and see if it made him feel better. He decided it wouldn't._

_"...Do you really, truly, wish to die?" Triclops asked. Gornash narrowed his eyes, but didn't glare._

_"I do." The way he said the words, they almost felt like a defiance, as though daring Triclops to ask again. Instead, Triclops' eyes softened._

_"I can understand that." He said, nodding sagely. Gornash raised one eyebrow, then looked to the ground as Triclops pointed to a vision he summoned._

_"Just as you lost your brother, I lost his mother." Gornash tried to look uninterested as a picture of the boy training with Skywalker appeared on the floor's surface. Still, he couldn't help but be the littlest bit interested in the information it conveyed._

_"...So... are you offering an assisted suicide?" He finally asked. Triclops' high forehead wrinkled as he frowned._

_"Then, the Empire has won." The voice he used couldn't have been more disappointed if he'd tried. Gornash frowned back, "From the moment we were placed in those prisons, that was what they meant to do -- destroy us all, one way or another."_

_Gornash's jaw tightened, but he said nothing._

_"If you truly want to honor your brother's death, then live." Gornash's eyes went wide, "Prove the Empire that they haven't beat you -- continue to live. Live just to spite them all, live to prove them wrong, live to see everything they built fall apart."_

_Gornash continued to blink. Triclops face was drawn and tight, but his eyes gleamed with intensity. It was almost as though something else was alive in him; like some kind of monster was prowling, waiting to spring, pacing around in a glass cage and watching all the prey on the other side, just waiting for a moment when the glass opened or was weak enough to break._

_It kind of scared him. Kind of._

_"...You really mean that, don't you?" He finally managed, almost in awe of Triclops' peculiar vengefulness. Triclops rolled his eyes up to the ceiling._

"_I am, how you say? Kind of a dick."_

A/N: Title by IAMX. And, this is the last chapter of the second half. From here on, things are going to get dark. Very dark. As in... betrayal, rape, disease, and death, kind of dark.

Also, the next chapter will be the start of 'Mission from Mount Yoda'. Bear in mind that there will be no Mount Yoda.


	21. Part III: Chapter 1

PRINCE

A/N: As I warned, things will get dark from here on out. Beginning with an increase in blood and gore. As well as some drops of sensuality, but that'll be light for a few chapters, given that one of the main characters is still a kid.

Chapter 1: The Man Who Lost His Soul

When I carried out the worst of my plans/ I was the only one surviving and a miserable man.

Luke Skywalker, Ken was coming to the conclusion, was a very aesthetic man. Ken knew this because, after a month of training with him as an apprentice, he'd had plenty of time to watch him. Part of the reason Ken was busy watching was because he was learning the art of imitation; he knew exactly how Luke Skywalker walked, moved, flexed, turned, even so much as breathed in his sleep or flicked his fingers as he ate. Ken knew because he mimicked each action with the perfect accuracy of any child. The other half of his reason was simply because it was Luke Skywalker he was watching – after just reading words and staring at pictures, the real, living, breathing man was something Ken was not about to take for granted.

As Ken watched and observed, he noticed other things. He saw the change between skin tone from the hollow of Luke's throat to the heavy, chapped skin on his hands. He noticed the thick muscle around Luke's wrists, forearms, biceps and shoulders. He could tell how Luke's figure moved and strained when he exerted any amount of physical effort, from the bulge of his arms as they went through morning warm-ups, to the form of his bones as he flexed his hands to do any sort of repairs or tinkering.

And, as they were sleeping in the same tent, Ken did occasionally see Luke with only a sweat-stained undershirt on. Through the cloth, Ken could also see long, white, pale scars on Luke's arms and back. His skin crawled every time he saw them, but at the same time, Ken couldn't help but think how cool it looked.

Ken also couldn't help think what a difference there still was, despite all that training, between Luke and himself. The thing in his dreams never missed a chance to heckle him about it, but Ken didn't mention any of his dreams to Luke – the second part of Luke's training was to teach Ken how to properly interact with other living beings, and Ken had learned, as a result, that listening to other people talking about you tended to make most everyone uncomfortable.

Luke Skywalker was the last person Ken wanted to make uncomfortable. Especially when they received a call from the Alliance Council, calling for a return to the base on Yavin Four.

* * *

For Han's part, he was irritated that the return to Yavin Four was coming so soon. Here he was, sitting in the committee room with virtually the entire alliance chugging caf and waiting for the next round of orders from the brass. Leia was right next to him, the only person in the entire room who seemed even the slightest bit comfortable, and Chewie was on the other side, his arms folded behind his head as he relaxed. It had only been a month – about a week of which Han had spent in dogfights and escape routes from pursuing Imperial ships – and not even half of the damage done by the forest fires was repaired. They were open for a bombing from so much as a convoy of TIEs. What was the Council THINKING?

"Anyone else think coming back here when we practically just blasted off and are completely vulnerable is kinda stupid?" He said as much into the solemnly silent briefing committee. Most of the ground soldiers and pilots muttered a general agreement – Han was glad the three head generals weren't there yet. Luke slid into the seat next to him, the pup right on his heels. What was Luke doing bringing a KID to this meeting?

As if to answer Han's question, the pup leaned forward and awkwardly whispered into Han's ear. If it could be called 'whispering' – Han was fairly certain the whole room could hear it.

"Why do you not suggest a better hideout, Captain Solo? We could try the Freeholder's underwater base on the ocean planet, Aquarius. Or Sullust, the homeworld of Nien Nunb who co-piloted the Millennium Falcon in the Battle of Endor. Or maybe..." Chewie interrupted the pup's rambling by reaching back and yanking him forward by the hair on the back of his head.

"Hey, kid." The boy's mouth snapped shut – by now, most of the other pilots sitting remotely close to Han had stopped talking to listen to this, "You don't need to describe the planets to us." Ken blinked, puzzled, "See, we're all pilots here; we know this stuff, already." Chewie let go of the pup's head, chortling.

"Oh." Was all he said, as though the concept hadn't occurred to him. Han heard a few snickers. The rest of the committee room was still talking loudly and ignoring the conversation. Leia loudly cleared her throat and silenced the discussion, just as Mon Mothma and the other two generals of the Alliance Council entered the room.

"General Dodonna believes the best strategy would be to assume a base in a location the Empire already assumes we have evacuated, to avoid any sneak attacks. For the upcoming operation, secrecy and stability of forces is necessary." Leia didn't announce this with any pomp or prestige, but she did hold a certain authority in her voice, as though to dare any of the unhappy pilots to keep arguing about the return to base. Han almost choked on a laugh. Every eye turned to him.

"Captain Solo, do you have anything to add?" Mon Mothma asked, voice cool.

"No, ma'am – I was just hopin' they don't have a three-year-old who's really good at Hide-and-Seek on their Intelligence network." Han replied, voice equally calm. Nobody laughed, but Han could tell from the stiff air that everyone was just holding it in. General Dodonna stepped forward and illuminated the holopanel, bringing up the image of a planet.

"In the last six months since the Emperor's defeat, we've been faced by skirmishes with remaining officers and warlords attempting to seize control for themselves. During this time, the planet of Chandrila has come under the control of the former Vizier of the Emperor – I believe you'll all recognize the name Sate Pestage."

Han didn't say anything, watching with bored curiosity. It certainly explained why Mon Mothma was on edge – this WAS her homeplanet that was being overrun.

"However, within the last few weeks, his hold in the Chandrila system has been compromised by the hostile takeover of the Imperial director of the Intelligence Network. Due to this shift in power and the internal warfare, this is the most opportune time for our troops to make a move and gain a foothold in the Core Worlds. If we can manage to secure a base on Chandrila, the rest of the Core Worlds become a risky move for the Empire to make any strike." The holos changed to outline the basic schematics of what a rebel base on Chandrila would allow.

'So, they're looking to get everyone in on this?' Han thought, before Dodonna asked,

"For the first stage, we would need a volunteer strike force to enter into the Chandrila system and secure a location." Oh, so THAT was it. Han resisted the urge to sit on his hands. He was saved by Wedge standing up.

"The Rogue Squadron volunteers." There were grunts from the rest of the squadron that confirmed that fact. Dodonna gave a curt nod in their direction, before continuing on to other missions that needed assigning. Planets asking for help, Imperial bases left unguarded, the like. Han listened, impatiently, and volunteered for none. The briefing finished with little excitement, save for all the eager troops rushing off to their impending doom.

"Captain Solo." Han silently cursed at not being able to get away fast enough. Rieekan was blocking his path out of the committee room.

"Something you needed?" Han knew what the answer would be, so he didn't even know why he bothered to ask -- maybe because Rieekan could just as easily give him a really tough assignment as he could a simple, nice, easy one.

Rieekan cleared his throat, then dropped the formal attitude.

"There is a particular mission that was asked, specifically, of you." Interesting. Han wasn't sure that was necessarily a good thing, though.

"Someone just arrived on base and said 'I've got the perfect job for a man named Han Solo?'" Han was surprised to hear Leia's voice interjecting that into the conversation. She had backpedaled to stand at his elbow, listening to the mission just as intensely. Rieekan gave her a worried glance, but Han didn't see any guilt in the expression. Which meant, of course, that the man hadn't been exaggerating.

"It might be in your best interests to meet with the pilot who requested it of you, Captain Solo." When Han said nothing, nor made any move to indicate agreement, Rieekan sighed, "...He crashed into our base's range a day or so before you arrived. It was a convoy from the Corellian system."

Now, THAT got Han's attention.

"Something wrong in the Corellian sector?" He asked, trying to sound as unconcerned as possible. Rieekan turned his palms up in a shrug.

"The pilot hasn't said much -- he hasn't been conscious for it. He's a Durese, still in the sick-bay." Han made a show of grinding his teeth, but Rieekan didn't respond to it, "I was commed during the meeting – he just woke up, wanting to speak to you."

Han debated: He really hadn't wanted any missions – actually, he'd been looking forward to some time recuperating from all the odd jobs and missions he'd been running for the last year or so, not to mention the recent scare on Bespin. And, of course, the way Rieekan was, essentially, putting this forward as an order didn't really sit too well with Han. Or his pride, if nothing else. However, he would not deny that news from Corellia sounded very tempting right now, and if the Empire had made a move on his old homeworld and all the neighboring planets... well, he couldn't call himself a man, much less a Corellian, if he just sat back and watched.

"Anything else you know before I walk in and find a bounty hunter with a hidden pistol waiting to take my head off?" Han finally asked. Rieekan gave him a very dry look.

"I know that he'll be naked and unarmed under the hospital sheets." He pointed out. Han's mouth twisted a little before he conceded this was a good point and he'd be down in a minute. What he didn't expect was for Leia to push ahead of him and outstride him to the sick bay.

"What the – Hey, Princess!" He called. Leia only looked over her shoulder, not slowing her pace as Han picked up his own.

"This is a mission for the Alliance – I need to be present to take record of the details." She said, not waiting for Han to catch up. Han opened his mouth to shout at her – more because he didn't get this sudden change in attitude than because he was actually angry – but Chewie growled at him.

:"Cub, I'd check behind us if I were you.": Han's head snapped around, almost pulling a muscle, to see Luke and the pup trailing behind them.

"Where're YOU going?" Han demanded. If Luke was surprised by the tone, he didn't show it.

"With you." Han really didn't like that both Leia and her brother could shut him up with a few words. Particularly, since Han didn't understand why they were bothering. Chewie was a constant, but it made Han particularly uneasy to see these two sticking their necks out just for him.

"I don't like that you can win arguments without using verbs." Han snapped. Luke had a look on his face that Han knew meant he was trying not to look smug.

Dustini, as the Durese pilot was apparently named, was definitely worse for the wear. Most Durese had more box-shaped craniums, but Dustini's was round and his whole face was thin and a very sickly pale, creased with wrinkles. His whole right arm and shoulder were wrapped up in cloth bandages, holding bacta swabs in place and Han was willing to bet there were more under the hospital sheets.

There was also a particular odor that only came from burnt flesh. No doubt that was the reason for all the bacta.

"Han Solo." Han introduced himself, sliding into the seat for visitors. The Durese pilot's eyes opened to show orange eyes instead of red, "I hear you got a mission – I'll listen, just don't waste my time."

Dustini's lipless mouth opened in what might have been a cynical smirk, but also might not have been. The voice that came out was dry and cracked.

"I need you to fly a rescue mission." Interesting and exciting. Han was already hooked, "To the Duros system... my cousin has been there for the last ten years, studying archeology of our planet... two weeks ago, he found his way into an Imperial facility... he has no ship... if they find him, I fear they might..." The pilot's voice cracked, again.

So, a rescue mission for a potential informant on the enemy. Sounded nice and juicy, and completely not what Han needed.

"How d'you know this cousin of yours ain't been caught, already?" Han asked, trying to keep up a tough, mercenary attitude. Dustini made that strange face, again.

"We have been in contact ever since he found his information... He was the one who asked me to come here... I barely escaped an Imperial convoy taking off from the Corellian sector on my way here... why my ship crashed..." Fairly good points and incredibly good at making Han feel like a grade-A jerk.

"...What's in this for me? What'll you do if I fly this mission for you?" Han finally asked, slouching a little. He'd probably fly, anyway – Luke and Leia were both very good at guilt-tripping him into this stuff, even if he didn't want to – but it didn't hurt to name some terms. Dustini's orange eyes narrowed.

"...Something... happening... a revolution on Corellia." Han leaned forward, "...Save my cousin... and I'll tell you what's been happening in that system."

Han ground his teeth -- he didn't like deals like this, but this was this guy's game. His rules.

Han also REALLY didn't like letting some other guy set the rules. Han almost felt like he was being set up for an inevitable sucker punch.

"You got coordinates?" He finally asked.

* * *

"So, this means we are going to Duro, then? I remember reading that it used to be a nice planet -- a lot like Alderaan, actually, except it was more tundra instead of plains -- and the old monarchy had a long history, going as far back as before the Old Republic was even founded. Of course, now, the place is falling apart, but..." To say Ken seemed excited would be a vast understatement, Luke concluded. He hadn't stopped talking since they left the medcenter, not winded in the least as he jogged to keep up with Luke, Leia, and Han, who was leading the way to the docks.

"No, kid -- we, the grown-ups, are going to Duro. You, the pup, are staying HERE." Han said, actually stopping in his stride to correct Ken. The boy almost bumped into Luke, but ended up stock-still, gaping at Han.

"What?" Ken asked. Han opened his mouth to argue, but Luke stepped between them, steering Ken away with a hand on his shoulder.

"You two head for the Falcon -- I'll meet up with you, there." Thankfully, Han shut his mouth and didn't try to press the issue. This was more of a relief because Luke had been worried Han's 'arguments' would consist of some choice four-letter words that he did not want Ken learning just yet. Ken didn't try to squirm out of Luke's grip, but he also wasn't quiet about it, either.

"But, I thought I was coming, too -- You are my master, so, as an apprentice, I have to come with you." Ken protested as Luke continued to somewhat drag him through the corridor of the passenger ship that served as the living quarters for all of the Alliance soldiers. Luke's quarters were in the same quadrant of the ship as the Rogue Squadron -- even if he had turned the leadership over to Wedge, he was still an active soldier, which frequently landed him on missions with the rest of the Rogues -- and now, there was an extra cubicle adjoined to Luke's that Ken would be in. He'd spoken to Mon Mothma about that as soon as he found the time.

"During training, yes. This, however, is a mission. That means that it requires fully trained soldiers and pilots, because the scenarios we would be facing can be dangerous -- dangerous enough that it would be very likely even an experienced fighter would be injured or killed. I'm not risking you on that note." Luke said, firmly.

"But, if I never go on any missions, I would never become experienced enough to be..." Ken protested. Luke stopped right outside the room Ken would be sleeping in.

"You're still a kid." He pointed out, cutting the boy off, "You don't need to worry about experience yet -- you'll have plenty of time to be scarred by war and strife when you become a legal adult."

Ken pouted, just a little, staring pitifully up at Luke. It was a struggle to not frown, but still be stern at the same time.

"You're also not a real member of the Alliance -- you're a ward of a member. There are other soldiers here who have families they needed to relocate with them and none of those soldiers would let their kids come on missions, either. It's just not safe enough." Luke continued. Ken's head drooped until he was staring at his feet. With a slight gesture, Luke nudged his chin back up, "Understand?"

Ken met his eyes for a moment, then looked off to the side, biting his lip.

"I still wanna go with you." He mumbled. Luke raised one eyebrow, considering. Ken had also said something similar on Bespin, but Luke hadn't taken the time to argue, then.

"...I'll be back. I promise."

Ken didn't need a Force-nudge to make him look Luke in the eye, this time. His expression was still pitiful, but brighter, and Luke knew he'd hit the nail right on the head.

"Besides, you can still keep going with your training without me. Keep doing the exercises we went through together until you're perfect -- better than perfect -- and you do have a droid to fix."

Ken's head dropped, almost comically in it's immediate response, but he was no longer arguing.

"Okay." And that was that. Luke ruffled Ken's hair, then walked off, headed for the docking bays.

* * *

Gornash was glad he'd built up a reputation as being particularly silent among all of the Prophets. He had things to think about, and it was troublesome enough without the others wondering if he was up to something. For starters, living just to spite all those who wanted him to perish -- it wasn't a half-bad idea, if it weren't for the fact that there really weren't any particular individuals who personally wanted him dead. There was also the fact that living meant exerting a bunch of extra effort and energy -- neither of which he really had. Just trying to survive the prisons had sapped it out of him.

"Prophet Gornash, I presume you have the information regarding that ship we sent to Madame Director Isard a month ago?" Kadann's voice sounded from his hood. Gornash stopped himself from jumping just in time.

"She took her prisoner aboard the Lusankya, and just a matter of days ago, he supposedly made an escape." Gornash knew -- these eyes of his could look through more than just miles of space and solid metal.

"Excellent." Gornash could hear the smile in Kadann's voice -- actually seeing it was something he didn't want to do, "Jedgar, prepare a shuttle -- you are bound, first for the Destructor, to gather some pawns to sacrifice, then to the Duro system."

Gornash kept his head bent over the table -- he knew that by the Destructor, Kadann essentially meant for Jedgar to take all of the governing officers that had tried to throw their support behind Trioculus. They had wavered and this was going to be their punishment for it.

"Duro? Why Duro?" Prophet Mammar spoke up, tugging at one of his braids. Kadann swiveled in his chair.

"Would it interest anyone to know that a ship from the Alliance is setting off, bound and destined there, at this moment?" Kadann asked. Gornash tried to ignore the conversation and think over his own, twisted morality.

"Interest? No. Confuse? All of us." Barnaby put in. Kadann's voice still held that insufferable, smug assurance, like an audible smirk of arrogance.

"And, aboard that ship, we will have two prize specimens."

Gornash didn't know about the rest of the prophets, but he was getting REALLY sick of Kadann always indirectly insinuating these things -- the 'More Knowing Than Thou' smugness, the infuriating calm, the sheer impossibility that he actually knew anything; all of it grated on Gornash's every last nerve.

"Fascinating. What's for lunch?" They all knew Tilus was just avoiding the subject. Lunch... ha, that would be the day.

"Of course, it would only be a coincidence that the sleeping agent the Emperor used would be in a facility on Duro... and, naturally, it would be statistically impossible for him to awake from his twelve-year coma NOW... but if, for some unexplained reason, he were to recover and, through a strange twist of fate, encounter the Rebels on their mercy mission... I wonder what would happen..."

Any idea of subtext was completely lost by this point. And, of course, everyone was paying attention, now.

"So, you're just handing them our one bargaining chip in controlling the Empire, for... WHAT purpose?" Barnaby asked, no longer bored with the conversation. Kadann continued humming in satisfaction to himself.

"In case none of you remember, the Emperor DID have a method for keeping tabs on particularly useful experiments in those prisons. How else do you think he was able to monitor us and be sure we did our propaganda duties?" Kadann punctuated this by tapping on his forehead.

"Oh, well that's fucking brilliant: Send the Sithspawn to the Rebels in a box and a chip in his head or stomach or wherever so we can tell where the fuck he is while he wrecks mayhem and destruction on the galaxy! Why don't we just put a fucking bow on him while we're at it? Asshole." Prophet Eris snapped, irritably.

Kadann tutted Eris, wagging a finger at him.

"Now, now -- I have better plans for him than that. Much better." He scolded. Barnaby actually managed to look impressed with Kadann's stupidity.

"And you actually expect him to DO this?" He asked, again performing that perfect combination of a glare and rolling-eye expression. Kadann chuckled. Gornash locked his fingers to resist the urge to reach into that hood and pull his beard out by the roots.

"I always get what I want." Kadann answered, smoothly, "Always."

* * *

This time, it really wasn't his fault. That was Ken's rationalization when he found himself locked in the cargo bay of the Millennium Falcon.

The reason he'd come back at all was kind of his fault, but not one-hundred percent, and he hadn't meant to do any harm -- he'd just wanted to say goodbye, since he'd forgotten to do so when he'd last seen the crew for the mission. That was innocent enough. And he'd meant to go straight back to the room Luke had walked him to. Also innocent. So when he'd arrived at the bay and seen the ship docked, but no sign of Captain Solo or Chewbacca or even any droids, Ken had assumed they would be on board.

Still an honest mistake.

And, of course, when he hadn't seen anybody, Ken's next idea was they might be loading supplies in the cargo bay, so that's where he'd gone. And while he'd been back there, he heard voices, footsteps, and the shriek of the ship coming to life, so he'd tripped over a box trying to get to the door in time to let them know he was just there to say goodbye and get off.

And that was when the cargo bay door shut and locked. Totally not his fault.

As Ken tried to keep himself secure on the floor while he simultaneously willed himself to not hear the ringing in his ears, that's when the ship started to shudder. Not just vibrate like the usual mechanics of ships, their normal gears and springs and bolts -- Ken literally felt himself lift off the floor and then drop back as the Falcon shook. The crates and boxes in the bay creaked and groaned against their restraints and Ken heard the rest of the ship's parts make similar noises. Distantly, through the walls and floor, Ken heard the thundering crashes of something battering against the ship, and in the ceiling, there was the static noise of the gun turret firing.

Ken pulled himself to his feet, only to almost fall over again as the ship lurched and Ken heard the sound of an explosion somewhere over his head.

Funny -- he thought that you couldn't hear anything in space. Or were they still in Yavin Four's atmosphere? Or was it just because he was inside the ship -- inside, they had air and machines and matter for sound waves to travel through, so of course he could hear it.

Ken's head started to spin. The whole world felt gray and cold and his body felt less solid than it had been a moment before.

On the next crash, Ken fell back down to the floor, shivering and curled up into a ball.

* * *

"What fresh hell is THIS?" Han shouted as the alert started flashing again. TIE fighters were bad enough news and they'd just finished outmaneuvering them in the Mid Rim systems. Now, the scanner was picking up signals from something else and so help them if they were more lethal than so much as a mynock: Han was in a mood to shoot things.

"It's just asteroids." Leia's voice reminded him. Han unhooked his headgear and lifted himself bodily from the targeting station, glad nobody could see how much of a mess he was making in his haste to get back to the cockpit. Just as Leia had said, they'd run straight into a cloud of asteroids.

Oh well, at least asteroids couldn't fire back or chase them. All Han had to do was dodge. Easy.

"Captain Solo, I do protest. The best established route between Yavin Four and Duro would have been a much easier trip, not to mention safer. Honestly, I could swear your methods are nothing more than a device for causing undue stress and worrying a droid's circuits until..." Han had been wondering when Goldenrod was going to pipe up.

"Hey, Professor – you have any helpful input that might get us outta here any quicker?" Han called, veering away from a chunk of rock that bore an amusing resemblance to a bird's head doing somersaults. This was a mistake – Threepio certainly did have some input.

"I would say that – first of all, going by the Hydian Way would have given us much less trouble. Established pathways would not have uncharted disasters or..."

"The Hydian Way goes straight to the Core Worlds and we'd meet with more than a few lost TIEs. 'Sides, every trade ship, pirate, and bounty hunter'll be sniffing their way along that route, and when you want to get somewhere unnoticed, you can't just blend in with traffic and hope nobody notices you." Han snapped back, "It's safer and easier to just make up a route and work with what it gives you."

Why Threepio was picking this trip to freak over Han's liberal choice of navigation, Han wasn't too sure of. Han had done the same thing countless times before, usually in much more dire circumstances. Han dodged another rock that almost took off their back engines. He wasn't so lucky with one that collided with them from the side.

"Han, get us out of here -- you can make up a route just as easily without an asteroid field complicating it." Leia reached over and put her hands over Han's, forcibly causing him to steer out of the way of the same rock that looked like a bird head.

"The HELL?" Han demanded, elbowing Leia off of him and returning his full concentration to steering. It wasn't just his eyes fooling him -- it was the same asteroid as before and the others were moving towards the Falcon.

"I TRIED to tell you -- Artoo picked up on a highly charged magnetic field around this asteroid belt which is causing them to gravitate towards us. Remaining in this region of space will only bring more damage to the ship. Oh, why does nobody LISTEN to me about these things?" Threepio fussed as Han spun in his chair to glare at it.

"I MIGHTA listened if you'd said anything BEFORE this." Han growled, "Luke..."

"I heard." Luke's voice crackled over the comm and a second later, Han heard the ship's guns fire. The hull of the Falcon shook as the blasted pieces of asteroid rattled down against it -- noisy, but no longer dangerous. Of course, it was only temporary. Chewie was already making adjustments to make a jump while Han tried to keep steering out of the way as more asteroids came at them.

"Luke, get back down here. And Goldilocks, get yourself secured before I make you into a fancy new wall covering." Threepio stopped it's whining and clattered out of the cockpit as Leia put on her own restraints. The navicomputer screen blinked, then flickered back on, coordinates ready. Han punched the accelerator.

Over the sound of the engines wailing and the ship compressing with the force, Han could have sworn he heard a shrieking noise that, no matter what was causing it, never was a good sign.

* * *

Luke heard it, too. While he knew Han had made some 'modifications' to his ship, he doubted any would make a noise like that. The only thing he could think of would be if something was broken -- probably a steam pipe -- or if they were dragging along the sharp edge of one of the asteroids.

"You stay put -- Artoo and I are checking it out." Luke called, bracing himself as he walked through the ship. Artoo was right on his heels, not needing any bracing. The sound was coming from the cargo bay.

It wasn't Luke's to question why. If something was wrong with the ship... Luke turned the corner and grabbed onto a extension from the wall in the engineering bay. The shrieking had stopped, but there was something replacing it -- a loud, rhythmic pounding, dulled by the heavy cargo hold door. And, now that Luke was here, he could also hear the sound of a voice on the other side, muffled and indistinct, but definitely human.

Artoo didn't wait -- he rolled over to the computer terminal and plugged himself in. A second later, the door let off a low hum and slid open. Luke's hand dropped to saber ready and his lightsaber was up and activated as the cargo hold's force-chilled interior opened up, steaming. Luke didn't even complete his swing as something latched onto him around the middle and sent him to the floor.

"Luke!" There was nothing indistinct about the voice, now. And Luke fully recognized the arms wrapped around his waist and clinging to him, shivering. It took Luke a few moments of staring up at the ceiling before he finally decided on a course of action. With careful restraint and measured calm, Luke switched off his lightsaber and lifted his arm to smartly tap the top of Ken's head with it. "Ow!"

Luke sat up as soon as Ken's grip on him relinquished.

"Ken... What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" Luke was impressed with himself for not shouting. Ken blinked a few times -- and Luke knew from experience that he wasn't making his eyes big and wide on purpose, but it didn't stop him from thinking it -- before the first words came out of his mouth.

"It is not my fault." Luke responded by grabbing Ken by the back of his collar, "No, I swear -- I just came back to say goodbye, but I could not find anybody, so I came looking for you and..." Luke dragged him through the corridor towards the cockpit, "Nobody was on board, but then I heard footsteps and someone talking, so I knew it had to be you, so I tried to get out of the cargo hold to let you know I was here, but I tripped on a box and then the door shut and..."

"WHAT THE HELL IS THE KID DOING HERE?" Han shouted. Luke gave Ken a shove even as the boy tried to hide behind Luke.

"Stowing away." Luke answered, succinctly. Ken pouted, just a little.

"I was HIJACKED... at least, I think that is the right word." Han didn't seem interested.

"Ever thought of just leaving us a NOTE?" Ken's mouth opened, then shut without a sound, "It didn't even OCCUR to you that getting on the ship might be a bad idea?"

That was when the hyperspace jump dumped them right into an armada surrounding the Duro system.

* * *

"Sure are getting their asses handed to them, ain't they?" Viro noted, watching the firefight. Triclops merely shrugged.

"They will survive. That is what matters." He replied. Viro yawned, dramatically.

"When you say 'They', do you mean the 'All' they or just the 'Some' they. Like, we gonna see the Skywalker brat and his sister, or we just gonna see the pilot guy, or is only one of them gonna die? C'mon, details!"

Triclops remained impassive as ever.

"They will survive. If I meant 'Some of them will survive', I would have said so." He intoned, simply. Viro stuck his tongue out at Triclops' back, pondering the most snappish retort he could come up with.

"What about the kiddo?" He finally managed. Triclops sat up a bit straighter, then turned, brows knitted. Viro hid a smirk -- he knew he'd hit the right button.

"Kiddo?" Triclops queried, somehow managing to raise the end of one of his eyebrows while he kept a frown creasing the rest. Viro didn't hide his smirk, now.

"Kiddo." He confirmed. Triclops' brow continued to twist, "On the ship. The one that's under attack." Triclops' frown lifted, "Is he part of the 'They' that'll survive?"

By now, Viro had Triclops' full attention. Instead of watching the Falcon in combat with the swarm of Imperial ships, he was staring at Viro in complete and utter shock. Viro let his smirk grow and leaned backwards against the blank dreamscape with his hands locked behind his head.

"Y'know, it just sorta occurred to me that we might try and be worried. I mean, you remember watching him while the Skywalker brat had them in quarantine on that swamp planet, whatever the hell it's name was... Did you also think it kinda strange that he couldn't even hold a lightsaber without having a stroke? Reminds me of somebody I know, at any rate..." Triclops face grew taut and pale. Viro forced his lips down a little, enjoying this immensely, "Wouldn't it be COOL if he managed to turn around and do something heroic right in a pinch? Course, it'd be, like, a thousand to one shot. But hey -- he's the girl's kid. That's a plus."

"He is coming for us." Viro stopped pretending to be so smug, staring as Triclops stood up.

"Huh?"

"That ship is coming and he's on it..." Triclops repeated, "It is us they are bound and destined for."

Viro opened his mouth to argue with the sheer illogicality of Triclops' idea, but the dreamscape started to warp. The ground seemed to drop and the roof climbed and the sheer black was tempered as spots of dark gray started to stretch, slowly progressing to lighter and lighter shades. It was like black film tearing and beams of light pouring through.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Viro shouted, completely ignoring the fact that Triclops was right there and could probably hear him.

"Waking us up." Triclops replied, raising his arm to the ceiling, "We should be present to greet our son."

* * *

From Grand Moff Bertoff Hissa, advisor to the would-be Emperor Trioculus, most powerful man in the galaxy, now demoted to a measly soldier. Not a Moff, not even a soldier of rank -- there was a young, slim man with ash blond hair and a perfectly trimmed mustache strutting about giving him orders from some man who called himself Prophet Jedgar. Hissa knew he was full of it -- he'd shown the real Prophet Jedgar into a conference room in an audience with Lord Trioculus years ago. This man was at least six centimeters shorter than that freak of nature.

"Admiral Graft." Ah, speak of the devil. Hissa surreptitiously glimpsed the approaching Jedgar in the reflection on his status screen. The upstart turned around and snapped his heels, smartly.

"Prophet Jedgar, the pursuit of the Millenium Falcon is progressing swiftly. Our left flank is in position to deliver a destructive blow, or we can capture them with an encirclement from our rear squadron. We await your orders."

Hissa pretended to continue monitoring the radar signals of the ships, not making any effort in the least to put sincerity into it. All the fighters could crash and burn for all he cared -- it was the best he'd done to support Lord Trioculus' reign and these impostors and the crazy woman running the Intelligence network had undone all that work. If it weren't for these men, he would be, in all sense but the public eye, the ruler of the galaxy. He felt no sympathy for these worms who had ruined it.

Jedgar held up a hand and Hissa could see a patronizing smile between the hood and the beard.

"Let them pass." He said. Hissa's eyes nervously darted to the reflection he was watching the conversation through. The admiral looked plainly startled.

"High Prophet, sir?" He asked, baffled. Jedgar's lips were curved upwards and Hissa could see little spots of teeth poking out the corners of the sneer.

"Of course, you are welcome to continue firing. Make them earn their escape. But Supreme Prophet Kadann has something special in mind for them. We can afford it."

Admiral Graft bowed and gave the order to his men. Hissa's hands shook on the radar controls. First an impostor of Jedgar, and now there was a supposed 'Kadann' giving HIM orders? Hissa was willing to wager this Kadann was also a little piece of vermin just trying to grab at some power.

The soldier seated at the terminal next to Hissa pressed a communications button, held his headpiece to his ear, then jolted to his feet as though someone had put a hot iron under his seat.

"High Prophet Jedgar, a message from the Reprogramming Institute on Duro!" He called. Jedgar turned, slowly. His hands were folded into his sleeves, almost casually.

"What do they have to say, Private Aspen?" It was as though Hissa was deaf or invisible or not even present.

"Regarding the subject you requested they keep under observation -- Number 63696 has exhibited a change in brainwaves and increased function."

Jedgar said nothing and did nothing. Not so much as a twitch, not even a snort of amusement or disbelief. Hissa kept his ears open -- what did the Prophets want with Subject 63696? It had been only the former Emperor's orders that had kept Lord Trioculus from killing that fiend when he'd been on Kessel. Why was he suddenly so interesting?

"They believe he's beginning to wake up, sir."

Hissa would have laughed if he hadn't been so busy persisting in his bad mood -- the subject had gone into a coma three years before he'd been transferred to the Institute on Duro. Even Hissa knew that a twelve-year-coma was impossible to wake up from.

Jedgar started to snicker.

"Right on schedule."

* * *

Triclops turned over before he was even aware that he was awake. His body just seemed to move of it's own accord, turning and wiggling until he had fallen clean off the gurney. That was when his eyes opened. Everything was shades of black and gray, all of it muddled so much that Triclops couldn't have recognized his hand in front of his face. Nothing had shape or any distinct lines. He couldn't even tell where he was by touch or smell or sound -- everything was numb on his skin, his lungs didn't seem to want to function enough to draw in air for him to smell anything, and there was a buzzing, static white noise in the air.

But he did know that he was in a laboratory, on the floor made of stone, and there were stormtroopers coming in, ready to shoot if he made a false move. How he knew, he had no idea.

'Viro...' Triclops had barely thought it, before everything straightened out. The blurry filter was peeled off his eyes, feeling returned to his hands and face and skin, and the world came completely back to reality. Barely a second later, Triclops found himself pushed back as Viro took over.

'I got it, I got it.' Viro sounded tired and exasperated, but Triclops could see him grinning, ready for a good fight.

* * *

"You." Ken had to fight to keep his knees from bouncing off of each other. Captain Solo towered over him, using the only finger that wasn't shaking with anger to point. Ken also kept his mouth shut.

"Sit." Captain Solo pointed to a solitary box that was upside-down on the floor of the main hold. Ken sat and pulled up his feet and secured his arms around them for good measure.

"If you touch the floor, I'll skin you alive." Ken gulped, inaudibly. "You got that?"

Ken nodded. Captain Solo lurched into the circuitry bay, grumbling about 'Damn kid busting up my ship' among other things. Ken remained on the box.

Somehow, the Falcon had escaped the armada of Imperial ships. Ken wasn't entirely sure how -- all he knew was that Luke had opened the hatch to the cargo hold and dragged Ken to the cockpit, and as soon as Ken saw the lasers firing and guns blasting, he'd gotten sick. All over the cockpit, kind of sick.

That was probably why Captain Solo was so peeved -- someone regurgitating while you were trying to fly was not terribly conducive to concentration, after all. Add in the factor that the distraction had come in the middle of a firefight with a whole armada of star destroyers and TIE fighters. The end result was the Falcon barely avoided crashing on Duro and Captain Solo was very, very, VERY pissed.

Ken's eyes traced the grid pattern of the floor, not brave enough to even think of leaving this spot. It wasn't his fault -- he still didn't know why he had gotten sick. The best explanation he could think was because it was his first time on a ship during the middle of a battle and he'd just gotten motion sick.

Commander Skywalker said that, even if it explained it, it was still a poor excuse. Captain Solo said he didn't care WHY it happened -- his ship was BUSTED UP. All Ken could do was try and stammer an apology and try not to get punched when he got too close.

His insides were still churning, and not because he was scared or because he was upset that he'd made Captain Solo angry. The entire crew was elsewhere on the ship, repairing what damages they could, which left Ken in the main hold. Sure, he was resentful -- he knew mechanics just as well as they did. At least, he was pretty sure he did; he'd read all about it. But the main reason he still felt sick was because the whole time, Luke had watched Ken with a small, almost-frown on his face.

Ken hadn't meant to do that.

Luke was going to give him a lecture, Ken knew, but worse than that: Luke was disappointed in him. Just like all the other times he'd tried to do anything, Ken had meant well. And, just like all those other times, well-meant had only caused everyone trouble -- a lot of it. Because Ken had screwed up. Was there NOTHING he could do, but screw up all the time?

"Or maybe that's all you're here TO do." Ken could have sworn he'd jumped a foot in the air. It was the same raspy voice, the same sly words, the same smug tone. He looked over his shoulder as slowly as he could. Indeed, hunched over on the dejarik table was the ape-man creature from his dreams. It's pale, wrinkled face was stretched and the bright eyes were wide with malice. A joyful malice.

Ken turned back around and curled himself up tighter, hands going over his ears.

"I am not dreaming, I am not dreaming, I am not dreaming..." He mumbled. Behind his back, the creature laughed it's crackling, high-pitched screech of a cackle.

"Suspected it yourself, hrmm?" It asked, voice penetrating into Ken's brain, "What makes you think it's all an accident? So sure that everyone means well?"

Ken wanted to clutch his hands tighter over his ears, but the words were so suspicious and wicked that he almost wanted to hear, if only to shout at the creature it was wrong and rub it in the monster's stupid face.

"You saw so well how they looked at you -- none of them trust you. All thinking you did it all on purpose. Maybe this was all a trap to catch you in the act, hrmm?" This, Ken could not even remotely believe was true -- it was too far out there, too impossible, too against all the facts he'd seen so far.

"But that's just how you see -- every person in the universe lies. Only thing that changes is what about. Maybe their good faith was all a lie this whole time, hrmm?"

"Why would they try so hard to protect a kid who they do not even trust, then? Commander Skywalker could have just abandoned me on Dagobah or left me to the Imperials on Yavin Four -- how can you say he does not trust me if he would go to that trouble?" Ken was talking more to himself -- for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to turn around and scream at the little monster that was heckling him.

"But, of course they would. Who could possibly leave a cute little thing like THIS out in the cold? People would talk, you know. Besides, make big enough eyes and whimper pitifully enough, a human would take you home and spare a crust of bread and drops of water. They'd feel guilty, even if it was the right thing to do -- wonder if letting something that looks so cute die makes them evil. Humans are soft like that. You'll see."

Ken couldn't move his hands to shut the noise from his ears completely, but he closed his eyes and mumbled to himself -- no real words, just sounds to block the creature's voice.

"But why would anyone even think of it? After all, so much guilt and so much trouble -- Humans aren't supposed to think of it, not after the first thought or two. What makes you so important that anyone would even bother?" Ken started and looked around. The creature was no longer sitting on the dejarik table, but as Ken looked around the room, it was now hunched over on the floor in front of him.

"I... do not understand." And he didn't – the creature was talking around and around in circles that he just didn't understand what he was supposed to think. And why was this creature continuing to talk? Ken put his head between his knees and tried to ignore it.

"Of course you don't – that's what makes it all so easy. You think everyone is good and kind and you don't even see the trap you're being led into. Not even led – they just point your nose in the direction they want and you go willingly, not even looking where your feet land. Stupid, useless trusting puppy, hrmm?"

"That does not make any sense." Ken mumbled, even as the creature laughed at him again.

"Soft, soft, soft." It hissed, "So sure they're on your side? So sure there even is a side, that you're not all alone, just being toyed with for other's convenience? Think about it all – back home, you were safe and you were protected. Never got sick, never saw anyone bleed, never had to see war and death and never unhappy. Look at you now – this world isn't a kind one, and you're not strong enough for it and you KNOW it!"

"I do not understand! What are you trying to say with this?" Ken shouted, finally frustrated enough to jerk upright and glare – only to see the creature was no longer on the floor before him.

"The pain would have been so quick. Over in a second, even." Ken almost fell off the box as he spun around and saw the creature hanging upside down from the piping in the ceiling, nose to nose with him, "Who knows – maybe you'd be dead before your nerves had the chance to register any pain, hrmm?"

"What?"

"You know it can only get worse – more war, more death, more people dying for a pitiful, miserable little puppy. Get it over with and it all goes away, all stops before it even happens."

Ken sat as close to the edge of the box as he could, trying to stay as far away as possible from the creature's sneering face. It's neck extended, like a worm's body, stretching the head out to stay just as close to Ken's face.

"I do not want to die." Ken's hands were shaking.

"Then live. I won't complain!"

"But, you JUST told me..."

"Advice. Friendly advice – you'll wish you'd taken it when you had the chance, later."

"Go away!" The creature grinned again, this time showing it's crooked eyeteeth.

"Oh, but I've got more for you." Ken put his hands over his ears and hummed as loud as he could, but the creature's voice seemed to drill right through his skull and into his brain, "They pretended they were unhappy to see you here, act upset that you're here, but the truth is, none of them could be happier. This way, they can take you right into a trap."

Ken felt his knees shake as he tried to curl them against his chest. It wasn't possible. All this trouble just to set up a trap? It was so elaborate and so much could go wrong with it, why bother? It didn't make sense. No, Ken decided – the creature, whatever it was, was a liar and that was that.

"You're lying." He hissed. The words tasted funny in his mouth, like they didn't belong. The creature started to cackle again, tossing it's head back and howling down to the floor – how it was staying attached to the ceiling, Ken couldn't imagine.

"Listen to the little puppy talk. So sure you've thought it out, hrmm?" The creature sneered. Ken took his hands off his ears.

"It's too much effort to make up a mission just to set up a trap for me – all of what they're going through now is too much to be real. It can't be anything but reality." He said, firmly. The creature's lips were still pulled back, the whole structure of it's jaw exposed, all the way to the gums. It looked distinctly like a primate.

"Maybe that's what they want, hrmm? Make it all LOOK real – anything less than the perfect act, and someone might notice."

"And all of this is just to get rid of ME? All that effort when it could be easier to just dump me out the airlock or something?"

"But maybe they DON'T plan to get rid of you – maybe they're scheming to save you from the mortal peril they place you in, gain your trust, make you depend on them even more than you already do."

"Why would they want to go to so much trouble for THAT?"

"Who knows – ask them, not me." The creature was still hanging upside-down, like a mynock, "You'll see, hrmm? They're just leading you straight into a trap."

Ken precariously let go of the box with one hand and clumsily formed it into a fist. But he wasn't brave enough to actually swing it at the creature.

"Shut up!" He shouted. A second later, there were heavy footsteps behind him and Ken spun around as Luke popped through the doorway from the engineering station. He was staring at Ken with a frown, like he'd caught the boy playing a game that he should have outgrown at age four. Ken stared back, unsure of what he was supposed to say or do, before Luke spared him the decision.

"Ken... what are you shouting for?" Ken blinked twice, then turned back to the creature. It was gone.

Mouth open as in their first meeting, Ken looked between Luke and the spot the creature had been just a moment ago. Luke was still frowning and waiting for Ken to say something and the silence did nothing to make it easier for Ken to say anything. It just wasn't possible – how had that thing disappeared? Luke would have at least seen it, even if it had ducked up into the piping and hid.

Was he imagining things?

"...I thought I heard something. It must have just been echoes from the pipes." Ken finally muttered, still fixated on the point where the creature's face had been. Luke audibly frowned.

"That's not what it sounded like to me." He said, slowly. Ken swallowed. Luke wouldn't listen to him if Ken tried to say what he'd just seen and heard – or, at least, he'd think Ken was making it up, again. And, on the off chance that Luke would believe him and had an explanation, Ken couldn't tell him what the creature had said – all that talk about traps and lies and deceit would only make Luke distance himself from Ken, trying to prove it wrong. At least, that was what Ken knew he would do if Luke told him somebody had been saying those things about Ken.

"...It happens all the time – when humans hear noises that form certain patterns and tones, their brains automatically interpret the sound as speech, even when it does not come from any sentient lifeform. And I can already hear things on ships that you and Captain Solo cannot hear – I must have just panicked."

Luke was quiet for a moment. Ken watched his face for some sign – any sign – of belief. Some signal that he wasn't disappointed in Ken anymore than he already was. Either Luke's face revealed no such signal, or Ken was really bad at reading expressions.

In a moment, Luke shrugged pulled over another box to sit on, facing Ken. This time, Ken knew it was the lecture he'd dreaded. Indeed, Luke had a few words about responsibility, following directions, and how he expected better from Ken. That last bit was probably the worst – Ken KNEW that Luke expected better of him, but he hadn't been able to keep up with those expectations in the least.

_'Stupid, useless, trusting puppy.' _Ken almost started, but Luke was still watching him. It had been the same, scratchy croak, but Luke hadn't heard it at all. It just made him want to pay attention to the lecture and try even harder to keep up with Luke all the more. Just to spite the stupid freak.

"Okay. Now that that's done with, Han came here on a mission. As soon as Artoo gets the files with coordinates and maps decrypted, the three of us are going out. I want you to stay on the ship and focus on your levitating. I want you to have the exercise done one-hundred times in succession by the time we get back with the prisoner – if you screw up on one, start over – and Chewie will watch the ship for any other signs of attack and make sure you stay out of trouble."

As Luke stood up, Ken could almost feel his insides going to his feet with despair. Sure, he understood it was a punishment for disobeying instructions and causing trouble on the Falcon by stowing away, but something about this method made Ken feel queasy inside.

_'Maybe their good faith was all a lie this whole time.'_

Was it really because Luke wanted him to stay out of trouble? Or was it all because he didn't trust Ken – because he was waiting to see if something would change when he wasn't around? Because he was waiting to catch him in the act?

It was a stupid idea – Ken knew better, he had to know better. There was nothing to prove that Luke really thought that way. No proof that the creature had been right.

But no proof it had been wrong, either. Ken's mind had frozen, all the facts and twisted facts and almost-certainly lies jarring against each other, stopping the gears from turning.

"Why is Chewbacca not going with you?" Ken asked, jumping to his feet and following Luke, as closely as he could. Luke's reply was tired, as though he read Ken's mind and agreed, before he said Han wanted Ken in one place where Chewie could watch the boy, and wrestle into submission if necessary.

* * *

"I don't want you coming with us and screwing up the mission – we've got a job to do."

"So, you want me to stay here and blow up the ship?"

"You WON'T be blowing the ship up, because Chewie'll be here to stop you."

"But I could still cause some trouble – if I come with, YOU can stop me from blowing anything up and I will not throw up on your decks anymore."

"I'm not gonna stop every five feet to help YOU out of each hole you fall into."

"Then, I shall pull myself out – I can pull my own mass."

"That's weight, kid."

Luke remained in his seat on the other side of the room. Ken hadn't stopped talking since Han tried to shut him up, and Han hadn't stopped shouting back since Ken tried to keep talking. Neither of them were quite done with the argument.

"What if, by some chance, a legion of Imperial troopers pass by just as soon as you are gone. With just me and Chewbacca here, the Falcon would be... what is it? Blown sky high? I think that is the proper slang."

"Chewie can take care of any Imps, I ain't worried." Han bit out. In all the years Luke had known him, Han had never spoken through clenched teeth like that when he was JUST mad. If he was growling, it probably meant that, yes, he was worried.

Artoo interrupted the lively conversation with a loud, shrill whistle. Han and Ken stopped arguing almost immediately.

"Artoo says he has reformatted the data Dustini left for the rescue mission to be successful – apparently there was a corrupt file that prevented any of the information from being properly decrypted from the encoding, but a scan was able to detect the data and extract it without harming the rest of the information it contained, so from there on..."

"Threepio, has Artoo finished decrypting the uncorrupted data, or is he still working on that?" Luke put in, gently bringing Threepio's rambling to a halt. Artoo helpfully projected a map with notes made in the sides, a writing system completely different from aurebesh.

"Oh, he is quite finished, Master Luke. The problem is it is mostly in Durese, so I was thinking..."

"Goldenrod, smugglers know their languages. I don't need to listen to you babbling over it." Han interrupted. Luke shot his friend a dirty look, then looked to Leia for support.

"And I was required to study several languages for diplomatic negotiations." So much for THAT idea. Threepio looked back to Luke, about as pitifully as any droid with a single facial expression possibly could. Cursing himself for being such a bleeding heart, Luke shrugged.

"I grew up in the desert." As Threepio cheerfully started to translate all the information relayed in the files, Han returned the dirty look. Luke ignored it, completely invested in listening to the information.

"According to the coordinates of Dustangle's last transmission, he would be hiding in one of the catacombs under the Valley of Royalty. The geography of the surrounding cliffs would make it impossible to land the ship anywhere near there, anyway, but the terrain between here and the catacombs would take a team of at least three to maneuver and scale..."

Threepio continued to point out the various notes Dustini had left regarding the mission. Spots of the terrain that should be best traveled by, points that should be avoided, a map, and other details. And, Luke had to agree, it would take a team of three to scale a majority of the cliffs. The difficulty was in who could go – the obvious solution was for Luke, Han, and Leia to go, but that would leave Chewbacca alone with an otherwise unsupervised twelve-year-old not fully in control of any of his powers in the Force. They could bring Chewie, leave Leia here, but Leia wasn't as familiar with the Falcon as Chewbacca or Han, and neither was Luke, in case of an emergency. And leaving Han behind on a mission requested specifically of him and, thus, keeping him alone on the ship with Ken... well, that was just asking for trouble.

"...And built into this mountain face is the Imperial Reprogramming Institute – a prison for their own worst criminals. Because the cells are all built underground and they come dangerously close to the site of the catacombs, Dustini's notes give us specific coordinates where Dustangle penetrated into the Institute. Because of the likelyhood that Dustangle has not left his position behind enemy lines, the team would have to enter into the Institute for the rescue." Artoo projected a close-up shot of the so-called Reprogramming Institute – it was impressively camouflaged into the rock, streaks of transparisteel only barely giving any indication there was a building inside.

"What kinda criminals they keepin' underground on a dump like THIS?" Han asked. Threepio jerked around to stare at Han, the silence speaking as though, if the droid could have made a face, he would have demanded what was wrong with Han.

"According to the information Dustangle commed to Dustini, some are criminally insane, while others are felons under Imperial laws: murderers, fraudulent violators, traitors, grand larcenists..."

"Sounds kinda stupid to throw all their important politics people in prison to me." Han took care not to muffle his voice in his palm as he said this. Threepio's reply sounded as huffy as Luke had ever thought was possible as he replied,

"Captain Solo, this is important. There are even names of some of these convicts: For example, there is a character under the alias Triclops, said to be directly responsible for the death of hundreds of troopers in the span of only a few months."

Luke jumped as Ken tripped backwards over the box he'd been sitting on. The resulting crash even startled Han and Leia. A long, conspicuous silence stretched as the boy righted himself, before awkwardly glancing around between the adults.

"Kid..." Han started, slowly. Ken wasn't meeting Han's eyes, or anyone's, for that matter: He was too fixated on the projection of the Reprogramming Institute's blueprints and how they overlapped with the tunnels of the catacombs.

"...He... the notes say 'Triclops'?" He stammered. Instead of answering, Han and Leia both frowned. Threepio, oblivious to the tension, was quick to confirm. Luke's eyes shifted between the image Artoo was projecting to Ken, whom had regained his seat and, aware that he was being watched, was now attempting to blend into the wall and not exist.

"Kid, what's it to YOU who this guy is?" Han asked, previous bad mood dissipated. Ken stared at the floor and mumbled something indistinct, "Spill." Han pushed.

When Ken looked up, his face had lost all it's previous color. Luke cautiously reached out into the Force – not prodding, but just feeling if Ken really could answer – and was met with a lump of twisted nerves and trepidation. Ken swallowed, then started to speak, but each word that came out was thin and battered, shaking with unease.

"...When I was a kid, I came across his file in Dee-Jay's database... I was not supposed to be in there, so I never told anyone, but I remember reading that Triclops is the end result of genetic manipulation experiments under the Emperor's direction... there is not much evidence to prove either way, but almost every bit of speculation points to him being... something of a clone of the Emperor – the experimenting must have taken place sometime during the Clone Wars, so it would make sense..." Ken paused to swallow, "...And, for some reason, he is said to be powerful in the Force... enough to be a danger... but the Imperial prison guards still keep him alive."

Luke glanced quickly over at Leia, whose cheeks had gone white and her lips, a strange shade of red. So, she also recognized what Luke had just figured out. A moment ago, the name hadn't meant anything, but now...

"_A direct blood relation to the Emperor, himself."_

Ken wasn't even aware he had just given all the information he knew about his own father. He didn't even know that it WAS his father.

"What else was in the file?" Luke finally asked, managing to keep his voice level. Ken shook his head, not making eye contact.

"That was all I saw before Dee-Jay's firewall redirected me to a blue screen."

"Sold. Kid, you're coming with me 'n Luke." Han said, turning back to the holo. Luke's head snapped around so quickly, it hurt.

"WHAT?" Ken's shrill reply matched up perfectly with the look on Leia's face. Han raised his eyebrows and kept a perfectly straight face.

"You know what we'll be goin' head to head with down there – it makes sense." He pointed out, "'Sides, a minute ago, you were jumpin' to come along." Han punctuated his statement by stretching his back and raising his eyebrows, "'Less you've changed your mind about that."

Oh. So, in other words, Han was trying to get Ken to admit he no longer wanted to come along. Luke glanced over at Ken, whose face had turned green. There was something off about it, though: Maybe it was the particularly fearful look in the boy's eyes, or maybe it was how his jaw was tightening with each word Han said. At the same time, though, it wasn't just the unease of knowing what they might meet – Luke could feel something else inside of Ken, squirming, clawing, almost chewing at him until he was too scared to even scream.

Luke frowned and pressed, just a little. Ken visibly jumped and met Luke's gaze, but instead of respect or nervousness, Luke could have sworn the boy shot a glare at him.

'He's afraid of US?' Luke wondered. Ken swallowed, again, then met Han's gaze – this time, definitely glaring.

"I can suck it up." Even his voice had a defiant edge that Luke hadn't heard before. Han's face almost fell, except for the practice he'd had in bluffing his way through his sabacc career.

"Good. We're leaving soon as I can find where we threw our medpack." Han shoved himself off the seat and stalked off. Luke didn't need the Force to know that Han was just trying to avoid any of them see him curse himself for his inability to manipulate a twelve-year-old.

* * *

"Kid should be a lawyer." Captain Solo groused. Ken wisely didn't say anything: He knew that Captain Solo was in a rotten mood with him for more than one reason, now, and Ken knew it was his own fault. He could have said he'd changed his mind, could have admitted that he wanted to be back on the ship, could have said anything. Still, saying any of those things would have been admitting that the reason he didn't want to come anymore was the mention of 'Triclops'.

Well, okay, Commander Skywalker and Captain Solo had probably figured that out; they weren't stupid. But what Ken couldn't understand or explain was why the mere mention of the name had made his stomach flip. He hadn't read that much when he was a kid, and what he had read hadn't really been that scary. So the man was the product of one of the Emperor's experiments – after looking up the phrase in the dictionary, Ken found, technically, this 'Triclops' could be considered something of a son from the Emperor's genes – but he was also a reported pacifist. That was half the reason he was locked up instead of in the Imperial navy or military. If anything, it sounded like he could be more of an ally than an enemy if they DID meet him.

So why had Ken had this horrible chill go through his gut when he heard the name mentioned?

"_This way, they can take you right into a trap."_

Ken half-shuddered, half-forced it down as he gripped the straps of the medpack tighter and slowly edged along the steep incline that lead down into the Valley of Royalty. Commander Skywalker and Captain Solo were ahead of him, both with their usual gear and weapons. Ken was the only one carrying the extra supplies, and even then, Captain Solo had made it clear that it was pure busy work. All Ken would be doing is securing the bolts when they went down the solid cliff faces so they could climb back up. Commander Skywalker and Captain Solo would be doing the actual rigging to get them all down.

The plan was relatively simple – instead of trying to navigate through the actual Institute or look for a way down from above, they would be going through the catacombs and working their way up until they dug their way into the tunnels that connected to the cells. Dustangle would be there, ready with his information, then they'd get out the way they'd come in and even if the Imperials had discovered Dustangle in their cells, they'd never know anyone else was there or how they'd gotten in or out.

Simple, Ken decided, was not so simple when your hands were shaking too badly to keep a hold on the pulley cable. Captain Solo had finished setting up the cables and both he and Commander Skywalker were already down the cliff face. That left Ken somewhat stranded still on the cliff, too scared to look down and find where the cable was.

"Kid, quit stalling and get down here." Captain Solo called, "This ain't a field trip."

Ken felt out the pulley with his toe and slowly knelt until he had a firm grip on the cable. The wires felt thin, thread-like, as Ken lowered himself down the cliff face. Every step he took, he also took great pains to embed a hooked stake into the rock wall, slowly taking down the pulley and cable with him. It wasn't dangerous – it wasn't even hard – but Ken couldn't banish the image of just one of them coming loose and someone falling on the trip back up.

"If you don't hurry up, we're just gonna leave you behind." Captain Solo didn't need to shout. The echo bounced all the way up to Ken's already panicked ears. He tried to hurry, but still couldn't help but be overly cautious. By the time Ken was down on the floor of the canyon, both of the adults had started walking and were far ahead. Too out of breath to call for them to wait, Ken took off, sprinting as fast as he could to catch up.

"_But maybe they DON'T plan to get rid of you – maybe they're scheming to save you from the mortal peril they place you in, gain your trust, make you depend on them even more than you already do."_

Ken almost wished he wouldn't catch up. What if it WAS true? He knew that Captain Solo didn't really like him that much, and he was a complete stranger even to Commander Skywalker. The only ones who seemed to accept his company without any hesitation were the two droids, and droids didn't count when there were living creatures to be compared against. On the other hand, he also didn't want to be looked down on like a kid. Well, okay, he WAS a kid, but that didn't mean he liked being treated like one.

And the LOOK Commander Skywalker had given him on the Falcon...

Ken had been watching where he was going, but somehow tripped on the ground, anyway. Ken felt the medpack on his back snap open and the insides go flying onto the ground ahead of him. His ankle felt surrounded by the hole he'd stepped into; honestly, he could have sworn it wasn't there when he looked, earlier.

"Hey, pup! You still in one piece back there?" Captain Solo's voice seemed to ring in his ears. Ken wasn't sure what hurt more – Captain Solo jeering or the complete silence from Commander Skywalker.

"Do not baby me, I am just fine." Ken called back, the snap in his voice dying off with each syllable. Of course, even as he said he was okay, he just stayed on the ground, staring at it. When did he become so pathetic? Was it really just because he left home? Would he never have changed if he'd just stayed in the Lost City? Was it just because he was a kid that he was so useless?

Speaking of useless, he had to move, eventually. Why was he still on the ground? Ken stared at the porous rocks covering the ground, listening to the rumble of the planet as it moved. He wasn't sure how long he'd stayed there, but the rumbling started to change; more of a clicking sound, really.

"Luke..."

"Yeah, I hear it, too." So Ken wasn't the only one – at least it wasn't just him. Still, the noise seemed to be getting louder. And the ground under his head was starting to shake. Ken pushed himself off the ground and back onto his feet. This time, the hole his foot had gotten caught in sank and broke open, as though something had worn away the ground to the point it could no longer hold the weight of a living creature. Ken fell backwards, but had the sense to scramble out of the way in case the whole area around the hole fell through.

"Means we're gettin' close to these catacombs. Kid, quit dawdling." Captain Solo seemed so far away compared to the hole Ken was staring at. There was still that clicking sound – it seemed familiar, but at the same time, there was a menace to it that made Ken want to turn around and go back the way they'd come. Something nagging at him that being right there, at that moment, was a really bad idea.

The clicking grew louder and the loud crunching of breaking rocks came with it. Ken grabbed the medpack and propelled himself as far away from the hole as he could before a pair of pincers easily the size of his head broke through the rock, followed by the body of an enormous Fefze. Completely on instinct, Ken let out a loud shriek, but he could have sworn he heard Captain Solo scream, too.

"Han, they're just bugs." Ken was too busy scrambling backwards as the beetle was followed out by two other heads, then a fourth. Still, he knew that Captain Solo was unholstering his blaster.

"I hate bugs, Luke. I HATE 'EM!"

"Oh, show a little backbone."

Ken hadn't stayed in one spot for a moment. Still clinging onto the medpack, he dove between rocks, finally burying himself under a shelf of rock to stay out of the beetles' way, but still able to see Captain Solo and Commander Skywalker cutting them down. Ken flinched every time he heard Captain Solo's blaster fire or felt the thud of a dead insect's body hitting the ground. The smell of the rotting Durese soil mixed with the smell of burning chitin and soft insides smoldering and all of it clogged Ken's nose and throat like he was breathing in a bag of clay dust.

Still, Ken couldn't make himself look away. Even though he felt sick to his stomach and like something was smothering him, he couldn't stop watching. Captain Solo blasted at the beetles undersides and heads with a vengeance and Commander Skywalker was cutting them into pieces with efficient, clean swipes, but for each one they managed to incapacitate, another beetle crawled up from the breach in the ground and took it's place. Ken shuddered every time he heard the crunch of a carcass being blasted apart or cut in two and gagged with each hissing shriek the beetles fell.

But, at least he wasn't screwing everything up.

(A/N: This would be so much cooler if it were in a movie or a comic book. //pout//)

"Luke, where the kriff are these things coming from?" Captain Solo shouted. Ken couldn't see where he was, no more than he could really see Commander Skywalker now, but he could hear their voices clearer than glass.

"Up from the ground – there must be a nest right under our feet." Another beetle head came crawling on top of the carcasses that had everything covered in the oozing juices of the other beetles. Ken's eyes followed the insect's barbed legs as they propelled the hideous thing in a circle around it's fellows.

"So, you're just gonna keep cuttin' 'em down? You get clear of them, I'm gonna blast the ground." Ken continued to stare as the other beetles continued swarming, that single one on the outside still prowling. The shouted battle plans between Commander Skywalker and Captain Solo became muffled as Ken's eyes remained fixed on the stray beetle. It just didn't seem right: Insect hives worked on hive minds, not by themselves. How was this one maneuvering by itself? And, more importantly, what was it DOING?

"Won't work – they'll just swarm back out of that collapse." This time, Ken couldn't even scream as the beetle, instead of climbing over the dead ones, started climbing up the cliff face. It was a feeling Ken couldn't explain, but he could almost see what it was about to do – it was going to jump and take Commander Skywalker and Captain Solo from above. Even as they were cutting down the monstrous Fefze before them, by the time they saw the one climbing, it would be too late.

And here Ken was, hiding, not even able to shout anything. His lungs wouldn't pull in enough air and the inside of his mouth and throat felt too numb to even move. Everything was cold with dread and anxiety.

"Han, above us." Commander Skywalker had just felled the Fefze in front of him and didn't need to look, but he knew, all the same. Captain Solo swung around long enough to see the beetle on the cliff jump, then aimed his blaster at the insect's undersides. It made a direct hit, but didn't stop the carcass from falling. Commander Skywalker jumped out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid the beetle's enormous antennae as it came down and speared him through the leg.

The cold dread Ken had felt before turned to a white hot shock as Commander Skwalker's cry of shock and pain cracked the air like thunder. Commander Skywalker's hands were bleeding as he tried to pull back on the antennae, just to stop it from going further through his leg. His lightsaber rolled and bounced into the covering, landing just beside Ken.

"Bastard!" Ken heard Captain Solo's voice, but didn't see him anywhere. The next sound he heard was the fire of a blaster and the screech of another beetle dying. Captain Solo couldn't get away from them long enough to help Commander Skywalker, and by the time he killed off the Fefze that were there, another swarm would be back to replace them.

Ken couldn't think. It all seemed so twisted and warped, so impossible. It had to be a bad dream – just a long, confusing, nonsensical nightmare. All he could to was stay flat on his stomach, watching, staring, motionless, even for his breath.

"The pain would have been so quick. Or maybe you could turn the tables on them, hrmm? Stop them from betraying you before they even get the chance?" Of course. If he was hearing the creature, of course this was all a dream. There was no other way...

Funny, Ken thought to himself, I USED to be able to see clearly. Why does everything look so... different?

* * *

Luke heard Ken's scream before Han did. What he didn't expect was to see the boy running at him, Luke's own lightsaber ignited in his hands, before it sliced clean through the Fefze that had him pinned. It wasn't just a scream – Ken's mouth was open in a wailing battle cry. For a second, Luke was too shocked to even react. In that second, the young Jedi spun and sliced away two new beetles that had just crawled out of their hole in the ground. Their shells fell over, bursting and entrails popping into the air. Ken didn't even flinch.

Luke's next move was to roll out of the line of fire as quickly as he could with a piece of antennae still stuck through his leg. A new wave of the swarm was coming, but just as quickly, Luke could see his apprentice charging them and hacking at whatever he could reach. It was like some kind of demon had possessed him instead of the frightened, cowardly boy he'd been all this time.

"Luke, what happened to the kid?" Han pulled away as the last beetle toppled over – all the reinforcements were being efficiently dealt away with by Ken. Luke sat up and tried to elevate his injury as high as it would go.

"I'm not really sure." Was the best he could do. Honestly, he was more than a little speechless – Ken hadn't been able to hold his lightsaber ignited without having a respiratory arrest a little more than a week ago, Luke hadn't expected him to jump into a full-out fight like this.

"Hey, kid – save one for us!" Han called as Ken started to push further into the swarm and even push the tide back. Instead of shouting something back, Luke saw Ken look back over his shoulder.

Instead of the usual bright gray, his eyes were a shade of yellow that gleamed like gold.

But less than a second later – so quickly that Luke wondered if he'd imagined it – the Jedi Prince continued to massacring the Fefze that charged out of the ground. If Han had noticed, he didn't say anything – he was too busy staring at the walls of the canyon.

"Luke, the two of us almost got killed taking on those things; you really think the kid can last much longer?" Luke frowned and shot a look in the line of Han's gaze – specifically, the side of the canyon composed mainly of large rocks that looked like a landslide waiting to happen. The fact that Han was also lovingly fingering the trigger of his blaster was enough to tell Luke what he had in mind.

"Save your charges – we might need them later." Han didn't need to be told twice. Instead, Luke raised his hand, eyes closed and all his energy focused on the rock the furthest into the cliff. With his concentration focused so intensely, it was like trying to lift an anchor off the sea floor without an oxygen tank. But, with just a little push out of place, that was all it took, and everything came dislodged and tumbling down the cliffside.

"KID! GET OUTTA THE WAY!" Han shouted.

As though a flip had been switched, Ken's head snapped around and stared, dumbly, at the rocks that came down on him. It was only out of panicked reaction that Luke Force-yanked him backwards, out of their path, and Han grabbing both of them by their collars and dragging them onto solid ground as the whole of fifty meters gave way under the impact. With the utter collapse of the ground, Han and Luke came to the conclusion, as Ken dug out the medical supplies and helped Luke bandage his wounded leg, that the best way into the catacombs would be down through the opening they'd just created.

What was strange though, was how silent Ken was on the way down. Not even a loud breath.

* * *

Suck it up.

The light from behind the Durese clouds hadn't been much to begin with, but it was growing fainter and fainter as Ken followed Captain Solo and Commander Skywalker down into the catacombs under the Valley of Royalty.

Suck it up.

Well, really, Ken was half-supporting Commander Skywalker: The bacta had healed the puncture through his femoral artery, but the muscles and lesser veins that had been hit hadn't been completely repaired before they would have needed more bacta, and any more would have sapped their entire supply. Thus, when Captain Solo wasn't able to serve as a crutch, Ken did so.

Suck it up.

He'd been completely useless again. All he'd really done was get out of the way, but even then, it hadn't helped any. Commander Skywalker was injured and all Ken had done was sat there and watched. Just gaping, staring, sitting... pathetic.

Suck it up.

At least, Ken thought, if he couldn't fight, he could do a better job of repairing damage AFTER the fact. But he wasn't a medic or a doctor or anything – he was a useless kid reading the instruction lable on a package of bacta. Commander Skywalker could have done that, himself.

"Hey, kid – I've got Luke, you watch where you step: It's nasty here." That was another thing Ken didn't understand. Why were Captain Solo and Commander Skywalker being... well, not as disconsolate as before? Captain Solo's prompts seemed much more like encouragement than the put-downs before. For the most part, it was complete silence, and Ken had no idea what it meant.

Not saying a word, Ken unsteadily tried to keep balanced as Commander Skywalker shifted off of his shoulder and leaned on the wall. It was barely the lightest brush and Ken heard a shaky, sandy sound like a rock crumbling. This time, he was prepared and even pulled Commander Skywalker backwards as a rock fell from the wall. Unlike the rockslide above, however, this was a single rock, and it didn't so much as fall as it slid out of it's place in the wall before toppling over.

"What the kriff is THIS?" Captain Solo shouted, swinging his lamp up to shine where the rock had been just a moment ago. 'This' was a person – a person who had pushed the rock out of his way – standing in a tunnel just on the other side of the wall of rock. Everything about him was unusual, from the peculiar long, gangly limbs that swung from their sockets like broken hinges, to his immense height that had even Captain Solo craning his neck to gaze up at the strange man's face. The stranger looked from Captain Solo, to Commander Skywalker, and finally to Ken.

The moment their eyes met, Ken gasped and pulled back behind Commander Skywalker. It was HIM – the man's face was exactly the same as the creature's from his dreams.

A/N: Merry Christmas. Your present is – twenty five pages rewriting 'Mission from Mount Yoda'. Hopefully, this way seems a bit more appropriate, ties some loose ends, helps keep character, and is more interesting. Pray that I don't lag for... oh, three months, with the next chapter.


	22. Part III: Chapter 2

PRINCE

By Sapadu

A/N: HahahahahahahahaSOMEBODY HELP ME!

Chapter 2: Unwell

I'm not crazy

Triclops' first thought was utter astonishment how much Kendal resembled his mother. Then it registered that not only was Kendal staring at him in sheer terror, but he was cringing behind Skywalker like an oyster inside it's shell.

"Who'na KRETHIN HELLS are you?" Triclops glanced at the man standing to his left. He was taller than the other two, dark and manly with a distinct Corellian cut to his face – Triclops recognized the shape of the cheekbones and ears from Kendalina. Captain Han Solo of the Millenium Falcon.

"Or, more to the point, what are you doing down here?" This was asked by the Skywalker spawn that Kendal was hiding behind.

Brat.

"I believe it is customary to introduce yourselves before demanding questions." Triclops replied, pointedly, never mind that he already knew who they were. He could hear a nasty crunching noise come from Solo's direction, or, specifically, from his mouth.

"Don't go tellin' me what's 'customary' – we left Goldilocks behind." The Captain snapped.

'So, we ain't the only ones who can't stand those stupid protocol droids.' Viro muttered wryly.

'Would you kindly stuff it? I cannot concentrate.' Triclops irritably snapped back.

Triclops could feel Skywalker's eyes on him, not staring but gauging him. It was something that Triclops almost felt a thrill at – if it were any other, normal man, the moment he knew Triclops was aware of his gaze, he would look away. Whether it was the unspoken rule among men to never make eye-contact or Triclops' own, personal intimidating shell, he didn't know, nor care. Triclops' whole head turned to stare right back into Skywalker's eyes – a crystalline blue that Triclops could have sworn he'd seen somewhere else before. And, just as expected, Skywalker didn't look away or even try to disguise the fact that he was watching.

"What makes you think we'll be truthful when we introduce ourselves? We could give you aliases and fabricated excuses for being down here, and then what? I doubt you'd tell us the truth in return." Skywalker pointed out. Triclops could hear Captain Solo hiss at Skywalker, the wordless sound somehow conveying more meaning than 'Don't do that' or 'What are you thinking' ever could.

"I have my ways of knowing." Triclops replied, not making any effort to be pointed or sharp. Still, Skywalker wasn't breaking his gaze. It was as though the man had no fear.

"Then, perhaps we should just go our separate ways, especially if we're just causing you trouble and you only intend to cause trouble for us." Not only did this kid have guts, he was polite and diplomatic, too. Triclops wanted so badly to hate him, but he just COULDN'T – not when he was so likable. Damn it.

"In that case, would you accept some token of information that would allow you to trust me?" It was the best middle course Triclops could not only think of, but also commit himself to.

'Stubborn.' Viro goaded.

'Shut up.'

'Fine – do the whole cool, mysterious act. Be a jerk. Ruin my street cred. The minute something goes wrong, guess who they're gonna point fingers at? And it ain't even gonna be my fault – you'll deserve it, too.'

Triclops closed his eyes and took a deep breath – it was the most subtle way he could calm himself down to stop from shouting 'Shut the hell up' out loud like a schizophrenic.

"Right – cuz you ain't gonna lie through your teeth 'bout that, neither." Solo sneered. Triclops turned his head again, allowing himself a smirk. Sarcastic, sharp, and quick with a quip to any situation. Add to the fact that the man had survival skills to put any predator to shame, Triclops couldn't help but favorably compare him to someone else he'd been fond of.

"For starters, you came on this mission to rescue a possible informant, related to a Durese pilot who crashed at your base a number of days ago. The only possible way you know of how to reach the coordinates for the rescue is through these catacombs and into the cells of the Imperial Reprogramming Institute above. That would make the best route, logically, through the passage I just came out of." So, not all of that was strictly true. Triclops didn't really care – he was curious, disoriented, and above all else, desperate to get out.

"How do you know that?" Triclops' head wasn't the only one that turned – Solo and Skywalker both turned to stare at Kendal, still cowering behind Skywalker. For a moment, Triclops could have sworn he heard Kendalina, their voices were so similar, before the unusual accent and halting manner of speech registered. There was also the note of fear; a tone of voice Kendalina never would have possessed.

'Why...'

'Because you look like Boris Karloff, you twit. I'd bet even the ol' Captain nearly shit his pants when you just popped outta the wall.'

'That accounts for surprise, possibly shock, but not horror. Not fear that would petrify him in his shoes.'

'Then, because you look like Boris Karloff AND you're acting like an ass. Told'ya it was yer own damn fault.'

"I told you: I have my ways." That was when Triclops felt the nudge. It wasn't like someone touching him, per se; it was more like being conscious, but still anesthetized, for internal surgery. It was a prod inside of him, between his ribs and inside his head – not painful, but disquieting, and incredibly uncomfortable when you weren't used to being prodded.

Given his experience, Triclops supposed he technically should be used to it. At any rate, he knew there was only one person it was coming from; his eyes shifted to Skywalker.

"I assume that would be you, probing me, Jedi?" He asked. Once again, Skywalker didn't even flinch, nor even look the slightest bit guilty at being discovered. The only change on his face was raising his eyebrows, at that seemed more in reaction to Triclops' announcement that he was a Jedi.

"I assume you've met a Jedi before, then?" And, there – he was congenial, even though his choice of words should have been MOCKING. Triclops, normally proud of his ability to be logical and serene with his emotions, found himself wishing for a flaw in this man, something, anything at all that he could despise.

"I have known my fair share, yes." He conceded. Skywalker smiled – actually goddamned smiled. It wasn't smug, but Triclops could sense it was more a suppression of smugness than a real lack. Skywalker KNEW that Triclops knew who they all were, and wasn't even going to say anything about it. Why?

'Because he's a decent guy and doesn't need to taunt people for cheap laughs.'

'Is that even really possible? Humans are not nice creatures by nature – it is in their instinct to compete and drive out their competition, by any means, to survive.'

'I know. Son of a bitch.' Oh well – at least Viro hated Skywalker just as much as Triclops did, for the same reason.

Skywalker put his lightsaber back on the clip in his belt, then extended his hand. Extended his hand to shake, of all things.

"Then, allow me to introduce myself – Commander Luke Skywalker of the Rogue Squadron, and this –" He shook his head in Solo's direction, "Is Captain Han Solo of the Millennium Falcon. You are?"

Triclops very much did not want to take his hand and shake. In fact, he wanted very much to shout or curse or in some other way express his displeasure with being treated so pleasantly. Not even Master Kenobi had ever treated Triclops this nicely, at least not without a moment to recover from the shock of seeing something so deformed as Triclops' face.

'Oh, suck it up and take it like a man. Or, you gonna be such a baby that you need me to do it for you?' Viro jabbed.

"That depends on how you would prefer to address me? By my serial number or by the alias everyone calls me." Triclops replied, one hand awkwardly extending and gripping Skywalker's hand like he would pick up something stiff and heavy from the ground. His whole hand tingled at the contact of skin – it had been so long that Triclops' other hand immediately came up and grabbed Skywalker's wrist the moment their palms met. Solo had his blaster out and pointed at Triclops' head in a split second, even Kendal had jumped out from behind and had both his fists up.

"Han, put that away – he's not going to hurt anyone." Skywalker hadn't even been surprised – which, Triclops supposed, he should have expected – and was now even coming straight to his defense. Solo kept glaring, finger still on the trigger.

"Tell it to me after he chokes someone." Inwardly, Triclops cringed. Solo was probably the least likely to be psychic out of any of them, and he already had Viro's preferred method of 'pest control' pinned.

"He CAN'T. None of his muscles are strong enough – even his grip his loose. It was probably just a reflex – he can't help it." Skywalker was still speaking in that perfectly calm tone, enough that Triclops was beginning to wonder if the man was on spice or somehow brain damaged to the point that he couldn't even anticipate danger. Triclops watched him with increasing unease.

"Serial number?" Kendal asked, this time not nearly as spooked as before – of course, he was still shaking at the knees, despite his tough-guy stance, "You mean, like a droid?"

"Kid, put down your dukes – if Luke says he ain't gonna hurt no one, we're fine." Solo called, holstering his blaster. Kendal looked to Skywalker for confirmation, then relaxed a little. It didn't change the fact that he was still shuddering.

"Not a droid – I am listed as prisoner number 63696."

"I take it back – you look at us cross eyed, I'm blasting your brains out." Like there was a spring in the holster, Solo's blaster popped back into his hand and was pointed at Triclops' temple; Kendal practically did a bomber dive back behind Skywalker; Skywalker himself almost tripped backwards – though, in all fairness, that was probably because Kendal was clinging to the back of his shirt – enough for Triclops to sigh and roll his eyes.

"You are welcome to try." Was all he said. Solo's blaster remained level, but the cocksure attitude was gone in an instant. Secretly, Triclops wished Solo would try to shoot him – if only because Viro was growing bored and wanted to show off his abilities for a new, captive audience.

A moment passed, before Triclops started to wonder if the good captain needed a second warning. Triclops turned his head to glare straight down at him. Solo pulled his pistol back, still watching with unspeakable suspicion. It was so tense that Triclops could have tugged on the moment and played a melody like a harp.

"...Triclops..." Triclops' eye almost opened on instinct – his self control just barely stopped it in time – as Kendal spoke. It was a breath hardly louder than a whisper, and probably intended for Skywalker's ears alone, because it was followed by, "He has an eye in the back of his head. It is him."

"Kid." Captain Solo wasn't bothering to mutter out of the corner of his mouth, either, "We can hear you, you know."

Triclops barely had turned back to watch as Kendal ducked behind Skywalker again, fingers still firmly locked onto his jacket. That's when it hit him – it almost looked like Kendalina hanging onto the arm of Master Retaw.

Except he knew it wasn't – it was something that frightened him and hurt him without so much as a word. His own child – the son, the little boy he had wanted more than anything, whose birth had convinced him that everything would be fine, eventually – was afraid of him. And worse, he hated him.

"That is what I am called, yes." He replied. Kendal stayed behind Skywalker, barely peeking out around enough to make eye contact, "By more than just the Imperials who hold me captive."

"Why?" Kendal asked, still hiding behind Skywalker like a shield.

"Who knows?" Was all Triclops could answer, mostly since he didn't know what Kendal meant by 'Why'.

"If we ask you why you are down here, as opposed to still locked up in a cell, will you give us a straight answer?" Skywalker interrupted, subtly putting his arm out as though to restrain Kendal from some foolish move. Triclops watched the motion fully – it was barely a second, but it almost looked like it was dragged out into several long moments – before he returned his attention to the question he'd been asked.

"Escape. Do you think they just release their prisoners for good behavior?" Triclops asked, raising his eyebrows.

"How?"

"Strange enough, when the prisoner has been in a coma for a few years, they do not seem to put many locks on the doors. From there, it is mostly work of not being caught."

"Why are you still here, if you could get out?"

"What would the point be, if not to resist?"

"Revenge." Triclops' eyes shifted to Kendal's. Almost immediately, the boy ducked back behind Skywalker, still gazing balefully out at Triclops, "The only reason you are here is for... revenge?" Triclops frowned – more because of how shocked Kendal sounded than any real confusion or disapproval. Triclops could have sworn he'd heard it somewhere before, and, for once, it bore no resemblance to Kendalina.

"Not revenge – merely ruin." He corrected, "Revenge does not right the wrongs, nor turn back time. Bringing about their destruction, however, ensures that none of this will ever happen again."

'You make it sound so noble.'

'I prefer to simply think of it as saying 'Spite' in a different form.'

"So, you're just in this to spite these guys?" Captain Solo demanded. Triclops didn't even try to disguise his glowering this time. Skywalker vaguely waved in Han's direction – a clear signal not even Triclops could mistake from an order to stand down.

"Are you in a hurry or not?" He asked, pointedly. Captain Solo glowered right back.

"Nope. I got all day. All week, even. We don't care." He was lying and Triclops knew he was lying. The only problem was that Captain Solo delivered his response with such perfect timing that it sounded honest, and either way, Triclops was caught off step.

"In that case, I propose a trade. I will lead you to what you seek, in return, you give me a way out of here."

Captain Solo pulled a face.

"Minute ago, you wanted to stick around and watch these suckers shoot themselves in the feet. Now, you wanna run?"

Triclops did his best to mimic the Captain.

"Right. I shall just WALK to the next star system." He snapped. Captain Solo rolled his eyes and Skywalker pressed a hand against his face to hide a smile.

"Alright, if you want us to get you offa here, you gotta tell us something else. For all we know, you're just gonna lead us into a trap, and you don't wanna leave this place, nohow." Triclops glared with all his might at Captain Solo. What more could he want? Did he want Triclops to cut off a hand and offer it as a down payment for trust?

'Like you need any more reason – yer the ones who got the kiddo under your thumb. Jackass.' Viro muttered, snidely. But that gave Triclops an idea.

"I hardly see any reason to give you any more leverage, Captain Solo. The Alliance to Restore the Republic already holds custody of someone whom I would care to see come to no harm."

Captain Solo opened his mouth to argue, but Skywalker raised his hand again. Triclops couldn't miss the wink, but damned if he could figure out what it meant.

"You understand we'll expect a more thorough explanation when we're not in any immediate danger."

"Of course."

* * *

"You're absolutely sure that we're gonna be okay following this guy?" Han asked. Luke didn't answer for a while, mostly busy watching Triclops' back, occasionally glancing at the bump under his hair that signified the third eye.

"I guess the best way I can think of it is that, if he were trying to trick us, he wouldn't be so openly hostile – a spy would try to seem as amicable as possible." The problem was that Luke hadn't felt any real trust from Triclops when he'd tried probing him – for one thing, the man seemed to have an iron wall surrounding him on the inside. For another, all Luke could manage to feel was a sort of confusion – not necessarily distrust, just a lack of real trust. The kind that made Triclops unwilling to be trustworthy, but more because he didn't trust them, in the first place. But the man was conflicted on the inside, as well. And Luke understood perfectly why THAT was.

But it wasn't something he could tell Han. He'd thought he could tell Leia, and look how well THAT had turned out.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Han grumbled. Luke raised his eyebrows, while Han jerked his head towards Triclops, "It ain't just a gut feeling I've got that this guy's trying to yank our chain."

"What makes you say that?" Luke whispered. The tunnel echoed so much that he couldn't help but feel like everyone else could hear him think.

"You remember what the old guy who GAVE us this mission said about his escape from the Imps and how he just barely survived? I checked his ship's log and he had more distance on that ship than an emergency flight would've taken – if he'd really have been desperate to get from here to the base, he wouldn't have taken the long way around. Not to mention, even if he had, there's no way his ship would have lasted that long."

Luke said nothing, but nodded for Han to continue.

"Then, we got off base and the first thing we run into is a swarm of TIEs. We have trouble with asteroids – and I ain't never heard of those things being MAGNETIC – THEN we run into a whole armada just over Duro. And just 'fore we got down here, we're attacked by bugs – kriffing BUGS!"

To his credit, Han managed to enunciate his exasperation and frustration all in a whisper.

"You think someone engineered for us to run into all of those?" Luke whispered back.

"I've seen guys able to turn scrap metal into some of the fastest freighters in the business – I'd believe someone finding a way to turn plain old asteroid rock into electro magnets. And when bugs swarm, they'll bother you for a bit, but if you kill a enough off, they'll get the hint and leave you alone, figure you're not worth it. 'Sides, they don't make up tactics like the one that jumped you and got you through the leg. If someone could TRAIN them, though..." Han kept going. Luke's frown turned from puzzled to shocked.

"Han, you can't be serious." He hissed. Han scowled.

"Face it, Luke; We've been HAD." He snapped, "...And I fell for it, too."

Luke glanced nervously at Triclops' back, then to Ken who was walking more or less tailing Triclops, albeit reluctantly. Actually, Han's theory made sense – what it DIDN'T do is explain how or why they were being set up, nor give them any clue what kind of trap was waiting at the end.

He only hoped that they could get out alive.

* * *

"...So... who is it the Alliance is holding captive?" Ken finally asked. Triclops was leading them well – almost like a guide instead of a captured prisoner. Still, there was something about him that made Ken's insides writhe, and his skin crawl. It wasn't so much that he couldn't at least try and talk to him, at least enough that he couldn't pay attention to whatever Captain Solo and Commander Skywalker were talking about, since Ken was sure it was important.

"They hold nobody captive." Triclops responded, in a monotone.

"But, you said there was somebody they have to use as leverage against you."

"I said they had someone in their custody. That is different."

"How?"

"Look up the word 'custody' when you find a dictionary."

Ken gulped, then tried again.

"What kind of prison cell did they keep you in?"

"An Imperial prison cell."

"Um... what were the guards like?"

"They were appointed guards."

"...What kind of planet do you come from?"

"A planet that has people."

"When did you arrive in these prisons?"

"From the time I was brought here."

"...Did you know who your family were?"

"I do."

Ken almost asked what he thought of being the alleged son of the Emperor, but remembered in time that it would probably not be the best idea if they wanted Triclops to help them.

"...What was your mother like?"

"A female."

He was starting to feel really stupid with all these obvious questions and answers.

"...Can you feel the Force?" It seemed like a good question – one that would at least lead to more interesting conversation than the back-and-forth answers so far.

"I can."

"...So, what kinds of things can you do with it? I am almost completely useless."

"I can see the future when I dream and see into other person's dreams, as well."

"...So it is like Force telepathy, except you must be asleep?"

"Correct."

"How do you do it."

"I decide to, and then do so."

"...But how does it work? How do you go about...?"

Triclops stopped in his tracks and turned bodily to stare down at Ken. His eyes were a shade of green that Ken had only see in holos of forests – a bright, clear, gleaming green that Dee-Jay had always told him were not present in human eye colors.

"Would you ask me how to raise your hand?" Triclops' voice was still monotone, but curt. Ken had to swallow to keep his mouth from drying out.

"No."

"Did you study how to walk?" He asked again, his face a blank, expressionless mask.

"No." Ken repeated, feeling incredibly small next to this tower of a man.

"It is the same as those things."

"Oh."

Well, so much for keeping him busy. Not only that, but Ken couldn't help but feel like a complete failure for not even being able to understand the basics of this whole matter. Maybe he would never learn, at all.

"_This world isn't a kind one and you're not strong enough for it and you KNOW it!"_

Ken shuddered – it was bad enough without staring at Triclops and recalling the face of the creature. Even worse, why were they so much the same?

* * *

Hissa watched the signal's movement on the screen. It was getting closer and closer to the base – just as Jedgar had said it would. Not only was subject 63696 awake and moving, but guiding the Rebels straight into the base. When they reached the approximate destination, Jedgar would give the signal and the drilling would begin. Either the floor would collapse under their feet or enough room would be made for the stormtroopers to come in from below and have them surrounded.

It was so simple, so brilliant, that it made Hissa furious. The only reason they needed someone monitoring the signal was because of all the iron in the rocks and soil interfering with the radio signals. Otherwise, Hissa was certain, Jedgar would be down here completely by himself, tracking the subject with his own, elite squad.

Hissa still didn't see why HE had to be down here. They could track subject 63696's movement without him – anyone could do THAT.

"Subject's movement is starting to change direction, sir." Reported one of the soldiers, comparing the screen to their own location.

"Leave him to his own devices – the ultimate result, we can determine with our own counter movements." Jedgar was still completely relaxed, not even looking at the officers or watching what was happening. One of them could have had a blaster pointed to his head and he wouldn't have even noticed.

Oh, what the hell; why not?

"Hissa, leave that blaster in your pocket." Hissa's hand froze halfway to the hidden compartment in his boot. Jedgar hadn't even turned around, "I'd hate to embarrass you by failing to die when you hit your mark."

All the soldiers stopped their various tasks and stared at Hissa. Hissa glared at the back of Jedgar's hood.

"Just an itch, sir." He muttered through gritted teeth.

"Just." Jedgar repeated. Hissa returned to the screen – the signal had once again changed direction, but following a more deliberate path towards the base.

"If the Director of Intelligence could manipulate a prisoner to give us these kinds of circumstances, shouldn't there be a squad to monitor her actions. She could become a danger to us, as well." Hissa spoke up again, trying his hardest not to sound petulant. Indeed, it was enough to make the other soldiers start muttering with concern.

"No need for concern. She's no threat." Jedgar replied, smoothly, "She is simply incapable of it."

Well, at least they agreed on something, even if it meant Hissa was still stuck here.

"Sir, no disrespect intended, but why bring along an unwilling soldier on such a mission, sir?" Hissa's eyes darted away and openly glowered at the soldier whom, despite all formal attitude and mannerisms, had completely abandoned rank. It was shameful – none of Lord Trioculus' soldiers would have ever questioned his commands.

"We all have roles to play, Private Aspen." Jedgar replied, simply, "It is Kadann's wish that the less than cooperative soldiers play the role of expendable pawns – unless, of course, there are volunteers for such positions from those of the willing, cooperative ranks?"

Hissa felt his hands begin to shake. A pawn. Expendable and useless, and moreover, he was being used as an example. Hissa wasn't sure if he was shaking out of anger or fear.

* * *

The cavern Triclops led them to was, to be sure, an excellent place in the base to hide. The hole Luke found himself being half-pulled out of by Han had been a tight squeeze for the both of them – Ken, Luke was sure had wormed through with ease, but damned if Luke could figure out how Triclops had done it.

Furthermore, it was in the very corner of a square room that was obviously a storage and equipment room for the prison above. Every square centimeter of space was filled with boxes containing rations, mechanical equipment, spare parts for droids and computers – virtually everything a working base would need. It was so filled with equipment, even the air reeked of all the pieces and bits of supplies that were packed down here, to the point that Luke could taste the air when he breathed it in. Even better, it was entirely filled, which therefore meant it was likely one of many, and one of the store rooms they had not had need to enter into, yet.

"You sure this is the right place?" Han asked. Luke could hear more than the fair share of suspicion in Han's voice. Triclops stared, blankly.

"This is how I escaped. What more did you expect?" He said, pointedly, sitting down with a grunt. Luke saw Han scowl back.

"Maybe this so-called contact we're s'posed to pick up and get outta here with." Luke braced himself against the wall as Han unholstered his blaster, peering edgily around corners.

"That is not my responsibility – I am not your mother." Triclops replied in an increasingly irritable voice, as though he was suffering from an immeasurable migraine. It was so bleak and dry that Luke had to swallow a chuckle, even as Han continued to make increasingly displeased faces in Triclops' direction.

These were the right coordinates – Luke was increasingly certain of that, from the feeling he was getting, as though something was pulling him into this room – but the Force was telling him something was wrong. The room was dead and stale – wherever Dustangle was supposed to be, it wasn't here. Nothing living had been in this room for a long time, now.

"Maybe Dustangle was captured already – that would explain why he is not here." Ken wondered out loud, shakily tiptoeing through the rows of supplies that were stacked in an organized fashion. Han went the other direction, running his finger over the supply boxes.

"Doubt it, kid – there's at least a week's worth of dust built up on this stuff. The old guy's information said they were in touch for the last three days. Nobody's even been down here for a while now." Han called, going forward with cautious suspicion. Ken shivered, then pushed himself along the stacks of boxes, as though Han's words had somehow made the room colder.

Luke braced himself on the wall, watching the boy with a frown. The Jedi Prince had been just fine on the way up, although a little more awkward than usual. Now, however, he was acting distant and worn – like he was faint or dizzy or some other problem. Luke's eyes shifted to Triclops, whom was also in an evident amount of pain from the way he had his hands on his forehead.

"Ken, what are you doing?" It was the best question Luke could think to ask without being too overbearing or babying. Ken glanced back over his shoulder, face ashen.

"There is something in the air here that stinks. It makes me feel sick." Ken muttered, quickly covering his mouth and nose. Luke sniffed the air again – there was certainly something unusual, but there was so much dust in the air and a mixture of smells from mechanics and boxes that Luke couldn't tell what it was.

"Might be a gas leak." Han called, continuing to poke between the boxes, searching for something, quite intensely. Triclops shook his head.

"That is the smell of death." He said, voice choked with pain. When all Luke could do was stare down at him, confused, Triclops merely said, "I have lived in these prisons a long time – I know what corpses smell like."

In this time, Ken had made it down to the final row of boxes and looked between the stacks. In another moment, he staggered backwards, hands clasped firmly over his mouth. Luke pushed against the stacks of boxes and hobbled over to the other end as quickly as he could. In the opposite corner, slumped on the floor, was a decomposing corpse of a Durese. Even more plain, however, was the charred, blackened hole left in his uniform, as though a blaster bolt had pierced his jacket and chest.

"Han..." Luke called, hoping that Han would come to the same conclusion Luke was reaching.

"I see it." Han's voice called back, before Luke heard more clunking noises from the boxes, "Give me a second with this, and we can get outta here."

Luke had to tug Ken after him, dragging his injured leg on the other side as they limped back towards the tunnel they'd entered in through.

"Han, what are you doing in there?" Luke called, poking his head around the first row of boxes and catching a glimpse of Han fiddling with buttons on a computer screen.

"Trying to break into the database which'll have info on the prisoners they've got in this place. If we can figure out who the Imps have locked up here, maybe this won't be a complete waste of..." Han's voice trailed off as Luke saw light from the screen blink and something in Luke's gut told him that Han had just gotten what he'd wanted, "...time..."

Luke frowned.

"Han?"

"...Nothing." Han deactivated the computer screen and scurried back towards the entrance, "Just wonderin' if maybe old wrinkles didn't have too much of a bad idea who should be locked up and who shouldn't be, now let's get." Han pushed the disguised cover out of place, filling the air with a rumbling, crunching noise of the rock beneath them being dislodged. He and Luke exchanged a brief glance before pushing the cover back in place and sliding backwards, dragging Ken and Triclops after them.

Not a second later, the corner of the room shook and collapsed as an enormous drill punctured the floor. Simultaneously, scarcely five paces to their right and in two of the other corners, additional drills shot through the rock.

"Get behind me, get behind me!" Han shouted, blaster up and ready the moment the first stormtroopers came up through the ground. Not one of them even managed to get a shot in before Han had them down, the second heads succeeding only in getting a shot, but missing their targets by far.

Luke was just as quick, unsheathing his lightsaber and deflecting bolts as stormtroopers charged through the other entrance points they'd made in the room. It was only the fact that his leg muscles were still missing that stopped Luke from charging around the corner and disabling the drills, which were still popping through the ground, making the stone beneath their feet crack and shudder.

With so much happening all at once, nobody noticed how weakened the ground beneath their feet was becoming until the room shook and, with an ear-splitting rumble, an entire portion of the floor crumbled and caved until it had fallen away entirely. The whole rest of the room crumbled and everyone inside disappeared, either falling down into the tunnels the room gave way to, or being crushed by the falling debris.

* * *

Luke rolled over and over, slashing at oncoming boulders and falling rock as he dove after Ken. The boy had at least had the sense to duck and crawl into a corner out of the way, but he had stopped moving altogether by the time Luke was able to at least slow the attack. Han, Luke knew could take care of himself, and Triclops had somehow disappeared or escaped. Ken, on the other hand, was incapacitated and defenseless.

'Not a third time.' Luke wasn't going to lose another apprentice.

The sliding finally came to an end as Luke found himself face down on solid rock, the sound of falling, rolling stone coming closer and echoing off the walls. With a gesture from one hand, Luke forced the rocks to stop, wedging them into place.

Raising his lightsaber to illuminate the cavern, Luke made a quick survey of where he'd landed. Mostly the same as the caverns they'd gone through trying to get into the base, but with no signs of where he was, geographically speaking. He didn't need the light of his blade to tell him that he wasn't alone.

"Put down your weapon, Skywalker." Luke pivoted, still unsteady on one leg, but at least able to fake being uninjured. Holding a wide-eyed Ken up like a shield and with a blaster against the boy's chin, there was a man in an Imperial officer's uniform. Luke neither raised nor lowered his blade, gauging the situation as best he could – Ken's face was still ashen and his skin clammy, like Luke had seen before when the young Jedi had been presented with any dangerous situation, but the officer was also holding him back using the chain around his neck as a leash. Whether it was part of the threat or not, Luke could very easily see Ken's lips turning blue.

"Now."

Luke glanced between Ken and Hissa hiding behind him. The message was clear, but there were risks that he just couldn't let hang by chance. He had to pick at least one.

"Stop strangling him and I'll deactivate it." He managed to keep his voice and gaze steady. Of course, once the light of his blade was out, Luke could move around without being seen, but still know perfectly well where Ken and his captor were standing. That was an advantage Hissa would not have.

"I'm not bargaining with you – if that weapon isn't on the ground now, I'll blast the boy's head off." Hissa shouted, his pointed teeth clicking with each enunciated consonant. His grip on the chain around Ken's neck grew tighter as Luke saw a circle of discoloration grow on the boy's throat. It was enough to make Luke wonder if Ken would be strangled or his head sliced off. The charm attached to the chain shook with each breath Ken struggled to take in.

"You're choking him, now – I want to see some guarantee you won't after I put my weapon down." Luke called back, still not making any move to relinquish his lightsaber. Hissa hadn't even pulled the hammer on his blaster – Luke was willing to place bets that he was bluffing.

Hissa started to laugh.

"How can I be sure that you'll disarm after I release the boy?" He demanded. Luke's eyes flitted towards Ken – his eyes were starting to roll back in their sockets. Talking was just wasting time, time which Ken didn't have. Luke was going to have to make a move, but there was so little he could do before Hissa would make good on his threat.

Well, there was something that automatically jumped to his mind, but it wasn't something Luke normally entertained as an option in bargaining. Hissa was still snickering, babbling more to himself than to Luke.

"Jedgar was right about you – you pretend to be all goodness and light, but you're just like Vader, himself. The minute anything bothers you at all, you'd jump at the excuse to use that old sorcery of yours to strangle someone. I can see it. You're all the same – just because you're the littlest bit different from normal Humans, you all think you're Gods of some kind..." Luke wasn't watching Hissa anymore – in fact, he was watching a much taller, much larger presence slowly emerging from the shadows behind him.

Luke didn't feel the slightest bit guilty when two hands the size of fully grown mynocks circled Hissa's neck and started to squeeze. The blaster dropped to the ground and splintered on the rock. Ken slid to his knees, then fell flat on his face as Hissa was lifted off the ground entirely. Luke raised his lightsaber again, but he didn't really need the light to tell that it was Triclops. What he saw was a crazed gleam in those eyes and an almost bloodthirsty curve on his lips.

"Is the big, bad Triclops gonna hafta choke a bitch?" He hissed. Hissa didn't reply – he couldn't get the words out of his crushed larynx, "Good."

Before Luke could say anything, Triclops' fingers tightened. Hissa's neck turned purple and a nasty crunching noise filled the chamber, echoing off the walls. Then, Triclops released his grip. Hissa's body hit the floor, completely limp; Luke saw blood oozing up between the corpse's teeth.

He couldn't believe it. Luke just could not believe it. Was this what he'd sensed when he'd reached into the Force and felt more of confusion than a real trust in Triclops? Or was this something that he hadn't noticed at all – something that had hidden in his shadow while Luke stared it straight in the face?

"Ew." Triclops commented lightly, tiptoeing over Hissa's body and edging towards Ken.

Luke didn't give him the chance – lifting his injured leg completely off the ground and shot himself across the floor, landing between Triclops and Ken.

"Stay back." Luke didn't brandish his lightsaber or shout or even really demand it too harshly. It was a simple command, one that Triclops followed almost immediately.

"...'kay... I just killed a guy to save this kid's ass – figured I should check to make sure I actually SAVED it." He pointed out. Luke glared straight at him, but kept his voice in check and forced himself to swallow the fifteen different things he had automatically started to think.

"You didn't 'just kill' – you MURDERED that man. Even in the circumstances, there could have been another way. I can't let you anywhere near him."

Triclops stuck his lower lip out. He was pouting – honest to Goddamn pouting.

"Aw. Hulk sorry. Hulk not know any better." The voice Triclops used was forced lower than before and deeper, like a character from an animated production. Luke's glare remained fixed in place, but he couldn't help but start thinking. The sarcasm wasn't entirely unexpected, but Luke was surprised by the mocking, jesting voice and tone that Triclops used. It was certainly a departure from the mild, monotone, succinct persona that had led them into this mess.

"You're someone else." Luke said, slowly. This was a completely different person than Triclops had been before.

And it was the reason for the conflict Luke had sensed.

"Well, duh."

* * *

Han was amazed he was still inside the storage space instead of almost getting crushed by something the way the rest of these losers were getting. Even more impressive was that he'd managed to get clear to the computer terminal again. Either that, or he was the damnedest, luckiest man in the galaxy.

Because the entire room was still in wreckage, Han was slicing away without having a blaster pointed at his head. It was a nice change to actually have time to make up his own plans without Artoo or Goldenrod around to do it for him or nag until he was useless.

Besides, Han justified himself, he'd seen a lot of these guys outside. If there's one place Han had agreed with the Empire on, it was that some kinds of people belonged locked up, no matter what.

All they needed was a little explosion and they could all get outta there. Han just hoped Luke could take care of himself from an underground prison blowing up.

* * *

"So, it's been like this for awhile, and you mostly just come out to defend yourself, not for any real destructive purpose?" Luke clarified. Triclops – or, whomever it was in that body now – stretched and yawned like a cat.

"Yup. The boy always gets on my ass when I do shit like this – he can't do squat, not since he faints at the sight of blood." He explained, giving Ken a glance as Luke subtly shifted to get between them. Then, Triclops smirked, "So... how'd you figure it out?"

Luke glared, then checked Ken's pulse again – it was exactly the same as the last time he checked, and his breathing was normal, but Luke just needed an excuse to stall for time. Much as he liked to say that Triclops didn't seem deliberately untrustworthy, it was still hard to really trust him. It was more of a lack of belief and disbelief.

"Figure what out?" He finally asked.

In response, Triclops crossed his legs, then pointed straight down to his crotch.

"'Bout the kiddo."

Luke gave the frostiest stare he could – more because of Triclops' crudeness than anything else.

"I was... informed." He finally settled for saying. Triclops smirked, looking mightily impressed with Luke for being vague.

"By who?"

"A specific agent of the Empire." At this, Triclops threw his head back and unashamedly laughed. Whether he was sincerely amused or just playing up his disgust at Luke for answering the questions while simultaneously giving no information at all, Luke was unable to tell.

"And you got pissed at the boy for being short with YOU!" He snickered. Luke pretended to ignore the jibe by putting the back of his hand against the still-unconscious Ken's forehead. Even without a thermometer, he could tell that the heat was not healthy. Triclops stopped laughing, but still sneered as he watched, as though he knew without Luke doing anything that Ken was running a fever.

"He doesn't know, yet." Luke took his hand away, shooting Triclops a glance. The gangly freak himself was leaning against the rocks and looking like he was wishing for cushions. In response to Luke's statement, Triclops yawned.

"Yeah, I'll bet he doesn't." In retrospect, Luke supposed that it was rather obvious. Ken had never seen Triclops before, nor Triclops him. Neither of them looked even the slightest bit like each other and there was absolutely no reason for anyone to even suspect. Still, it was something that needed to be said.

"He SHOULDN'T know. I don't think anyone should tell him for a while to come." Luke had never thought he'd say it outright, but it was the most honest thing he could say. He knew, firsthand, what came with learning an unpleasant truth, about becoming disillusioned about virtually everything you ever knew about yourself. So, part of it was just empathy, but if Luke really had to say why – and Triclops' raised eyebrows were just BEGGING for an explanation – it was just personally difficult for Luke to be the one to do it.

"...And... you assume I care?" He finally said. Luke blinked, completely unable to believe what he was hearing.

"He's your son!" Luke wasn't sure why he'd started whispering – it wasn't as though anyone else was around to hear them.

"No. He's the boy's son. Not mine – I couldn't give a shit if I tried." Triclops shrugged it off. Luke wasn't sure if it was his anger or just a reflex that made his hand clench into a fist – honestly, he didn't really care to know.

"It's the same thing!" Luke shouted. Ken hadn't even twitched. He was still out cold.

Triclops held up one finger and flicked it from side to side. He honestly looked disappointed in Luke – as though he'd expected something better of his intelligence. It wasn't sarcastic or even pouting.

"Trust me. The minute I disappear and give the boy front and center stage, you'll see the difference. There's a reason I'm here and a reason he is, and there's no doing nothing about it." He said. Luke scowled but didn't have a chance to retort as Triclops changed the subject, "Why're we just sitting here, talking about shit? Why aren't we... I dunno... trying to dig our way out?"

Luke closed his eyes and kept himself calm. He knew what was happening – he could feel the restlessness in the Force, the unconscious fear of the residents in the prison above, the unease from Han...

"Captain Solo is planning to set off the self-destruct system. It should cause a chain reaction, loosen the debris which has us trapped in here, and we can get out of here. All we need to do is wait." He said. Triclops snorted. When Luke opened his eyes, the disgust was written plainly over Triclops' face.

"This mean fireworks?" He asked. Luke didn't answer, "Oh, come on! You were all mushy and touchy-feely about the kid. Suddenly blowing a huge building up just to save a few good men is okay? Least you could do is squirm a little – I'm the one the boy's gonna bitch out for it later."

"You keep saying 'the boy'. When your own son is in the room, what's the difference?" Luke finally let it out – it had been bugging him since their discussion started. Triclops stared up at him through the corners of his eyes – either he was exasperated or angry, but Luke couldn't tell.

"The kid's the kid, the boy's the boy, I'm me." He finally said with a shrug. When Luke gave him the exact same glare that could have been just rolling his eyes, Triclops shrugged again, "Or, to speak Jedi-Farmboy language... The kid's the whiny crybaby who's been following you like a talkative second shadow, the boy's the little bitch you refer to as Triclops, and I'm... guess I can be counted as the maniacal ass who just made an Imp his bitch."

Luke put a hand over his eyes and massaged them.

"Trust me – It makes more sense if you're the one actually living in the skull."

Dust started shaking from the rocks over their heads.

"Cue the bitching." Luke barely heard Triclops voice as a crack appeared in the ceiling. On instinct, he reached over and pulled Ken into a sitting position, then onto his back. Stones started to fall, splintering on the floor and breaking the rocks under their feet open. It was only a split second before the ceiling came down in long slabs – Luke rolled out of the way, taking Ken with him. A second one came down just centimeters from crushing his foot, leaving Luke with no way out as a third came down. It was half instinct that he reached into the Force, pushing against the slab as it came down. Luke saw the rock slow, the movement turning from a straight free fall into a shuddering, uneasy drop, as though supported by a breaking cable.

Luke's leg was still throbbing as the wound stretched, his head spinning with vertigo, his back starting to ache as it bent in an unnatural shape under Ken's weight. It was hard for him to remember to breathe, let alone concentrate on the rock that was, sooner or later, going to crush him and Ken.

"Commander." Luke's concentration broke entirely to see that Triclops had taken a position under the falling rock, supporting it on his head. For a moment, he almost didn't believe his eyes – a moment ago, there had been something different about his entire being. Something about the look on his face – instead of aggressive and just itching for a fight, Luke could see lines of anxiety on his forehead and his eyes looked sunken in, as though from long, sleepless nights and stress.

This... this had to be the real Triclops. Like the one before had been talking about – he was completely different.

"Get him out." Triclops' breath came out labored, as though his chest was being constricted by a metal cage. Luke could see Triclops' eyes turning red in the corners, the color draining from the rest of his face.

'Now, it makes sense.' The other might not have given a damn, but this side of Triclops – this other face, Luke was willing to concede that – really did love his son.

Luke closed his eyes and focused, pressing every ounce of strength he had into the Force and lifting all the fallen pieces of stone off the floor until they formed a ramp out of the cave – with the ceiling collapsed, Luke could see the light of the Duro sky drifting through the rocks. Triclops immediately collapsed, wheezing for breath with a hand over his sternum.

"You, too." Was all he managed to grunt out. Triclops stared, mutely, before Luke reached over and grabbed a handful of shirt. "If we can survive, so can you."

Luke didn't hear any argument out of Triclops as both of them pelted up through the collapsing cavern, racing to get out. It was such a familiar kind of silence that Luke wondered how, even for a second, anyone would doubt the connection between the father and the son.

* * *

"There he is!" Han pointed out the window as Chewbacca kept a tight grip on the controls. Smoke was rising up from the ground, thick and dark and textured as the prison burned and crumbled like the ground it had been hidden under. Overloading the circuit board had done just the trick – the only problem was that there was no sign of Luke anywhere. That was when Han saw two Humans crawling out of the rapidly collapsing ground. One was the tall, freaky stranger they'd found in the catacombs, the other looked like Luke carrying the kid, piggyback.

"Han, there's another explosion building at eight o'clock." Leia's voice crackled over the comm system. Chewie jerked on the controls, veering them out of the explosion's pathway and starting to circle downwards. Han just hoped Leia would be ready to open the hatch and pull Luke and the kid inside.

A moment later, they were within range of the ground. Han saw a light on the board flashing, signaling one of the lower hatches was opened, then shut off after a minute. Leia poked her head back through the cockpit door and take her seat behind Han.

"Alright Chewie, punch it." Han snapped, pulling back on the thrusters just barely avoiding another explosion from the underground. It took more than a little steering and engine thrusts to get them clear of the explosion site, and several minutes before they had gained enough altitude to exit Duro's atmosphere. Too long, for Han's liking, especially when this whole thing had been a set-up. He'd gotten that message to the Falcon before setting off the detonator – apparently, Leia had sent the message along to the base, but damned if any of them knew whether base had received it or not.

"Han, swarmers!" He didn't need to be told, this time – Han had expected to run into the fleet again. The real question was who was going to man the targeting station, since Chewie couldn't fit down the ladder and Luke still needed medical attention for that damn leg. Still, Chewie could pilot well enough that Had had to take at least one of the stations. He bumped into Leia halfway to it.

"Kid's not gonna be anywhere near the cockpit this time, right?" He asked, not slowing his pace. Leia spun around and pushed after him.

"Luke's got him and the other one in the medical bay. Han, where are you going?" She called. Han didn't answer, except to climb up into the hull-side targeter. It would leave their bow unprotected, but then again, Chewie knew how to fly. He'd just have to depend on that.

"Han – fighters, hard to starboard." Han swiveled in his chair and just barely sent off a round of fire. There were three TIEs incoming from the side, all of them effectively dodging his blasts and coming around to land a blow on the Falcon's hull. Three blasts came from the underside of the ship, each one hitting their mark and sending the remaining pieces of the TIEs scattering. Han twisted his neck to look down and see Leia seated in the bow's targeting station.

Well, she could shoot. Han wasn't going to argue with that.

* * *

Ken came to with an icepack on his forehead. He didn't need to be told what must have happened – it was the third time during this whole trip he'd gotten sick or fainted right in the middle of something dire. Captain Solo and Commander Skywalker must have been furious with him.

Didn't explain where he was, or why there was an icepack on his head. Had he been captured, again? But that wouldn't explain why he was getting medical attention – it was one of the Empire's biggest war crimes, after all.

"Ken?" Ken bolted upright, ignoring his vertigo and twisted clear off the bench he'd been on. Commander Skywalker was calmly seated with his injured leg elevated and wrapped up in a roll of gauze. Ken's head snapped around, looking for some indicator of where he was. All he really saw were gray walls and boxes stacked up. Finally, Commander Skywalker gestured him over. Obediently, Ken crawled back over, keeping the icepack still on his head.

Without a word, Commander Skywalker pressed the back of his left hand against Ken's cheek, then moved up to feel his forehead. Ken watched him, eyes round, before Commander Skywalker reached into the medkit and pulled out a box-shaped instrument with a stick he inserted into Ken's ear. Still silent, Ken waited for Commander Skywalker to say something until the box beeped. Commander Skywalker pulled away.

"Your fever's gone down, but it's still a high temperature." He said. Ken wasn't sure if Commander Skywalker was speaking to him or not, but he responded, anyway.

"I had a fever?" It explained the vertigo and why he'd gotten so sick. Had he been running a fever since getting stuck on the ship? Commander Skywalker nodded.

"Thirty-eight degrees." Ken continued to blink, before Commander Skywalker ruffled his hair, "As soon as we get back to base, I'm getting you into the MedCenter."

Ken continued to blink.

"Base? Where are we?" He finally managed. Commander Skywalker removed the nozzle for the thermometer and sealed it in a disposing bag.

"Forward hold of the Millennium Falcon." Ken looked around again – that explained the crates and the walls. It did, indeed, look like one of the many cargo holds on board the Falcon. Faintly, Ken could hear the rattling of the tubes and felt the ship shake with tremors. Captain Solo must have been caught in another dogfight. Just imagining it made Ken feel like he wanted to throw up, but he took a deep breath through his nose and let it out through the mouth to keep it under control.

"...Commander Skywalker..." Ken muttered, when he'd gotten his nausea under control. Commander Skywalker frowned.

"Luke." Ken blinked, "We talked about this – just call me Luke."

Ken looked down at his knees – he hadn't forgotten, but given how much trouble he'd been this whole week, he didn't want to make things worse. He had a feeling that calling Luke by his first name would probably get him in even more trouble with Captain Solo.

"...Um... where's Mister Triclops? Did he... make it out?" Ken asked staring at his knees. Commander Skywalker was still watching him with that disappointed look.

"The last I saw, he was in the port side corridor. He said the quad-laser cannons were giving him a headache."

* * *

Triclops leaned against the wall of the little nook he'd found. It was a tiny compartment just off the corridor, one that Triclops had every reason to believe was not meant to be occupied. Frankly, he didn't care. He was too miserable to care; his head was pounding and his stomach was churning and his lungs screamed like they'd been doused in rocket fuel. The cool compartment blocked all light out of the room, proofed against most of the sound, and cold, hard metal floors and walls. Sure, he was shivering, and sure, it didn't make it easier to breathe, but it was the best he could get. Triclops tucked his knees up to his chest and lay down, trying to ignore his migraine.

His son couldn't stand him. He was afraid of him, too revolted by the idea of who he was to even speak to him, distant, detached...

'Hypocrite.' Viro sneered. Triclops told him to sod off. He was having a good mope, and dammit, it wasn't like anyone was really going to miss him.

There was a tap on the door. To Triclops' throbbing headache, it sounded like someone was beating on the door with an electric powered hammer. He curled up and covered his ears against the noise.

"Mister Triclops? Are you in there?" Triclops shut his eyes tightly as the door slid open and a silhouette fell across him. The door closed again and Triclops cracked open one eye – fairly adjusted to the dark, to see Kendal pressing himself into the opposite corner.

Triclops shut his eyes again, wondering if hallucinating was a symptom of migraines.

"Commander Skywalker said the quad laser cannons were giving you a headache. Are you okay?" And this hallucination was even courteous enough to be worried about his health.

"Migraine. Severe headache, nausea, dizziness, intolerance to light and noise, and lethargy." He mumbled. Kendal slid down into a crouching position, hugging his knees to his chest as he watched Triclops, "How did you know I was here, anyway?"

Kendal's hand went up to his nose.

"...Um..." Was all he said, but Triclops understood – he felt dirty, so filthy he couldn't even remember what soap felt like. It was disgusting, "...When we get back to the base, they shall probably want to put you in custody... as a prisoner."

"Probably." Triclops agreed. He knew he wasn't trustworthy. And besides, he'd just spent years in an Imperial facility, AND was the experimental offspring of the Emperor to boot. Who'd want to have him running loose?

"I asked Commander Skywalker what kinds of things the Alliance does to their prisoners... so, on the illuminated side, you should be fed, kept clean and safe, and they'll have medical care... and... um..." Triclops kept covering and uncovering his ears, unable to decide if his migraine was worth listening to Kendal's voice.

"Bright side." Kendal stopped stumbling through his jabber, "'On the bright side'... not 'illuminated side'."

Kendal was silent as Triclops eased himself up, leaning against the wall.

"You do not seem as scary when you are not standing up and towering over everyone." Kendal finally added, voice going up in an optimism that Triclops couldn't tell if it was sincere or not, "At least... you do not seem as intimidating."

"You are not the first to observe that." Triclops muttered, pressing his temple as flat against the wall as he could. Kendal watched him for a moment, as though contemplating a question, but unable to put it into words.

"...Do you... wish you were not that way?" Kendal asked. The aching in his temples was starting to fade on the side he had pressed to the wall, but it only grew stronger on the other side. Triclops lifted a hand and pressed his icy cold fingers to it. He could smell the blood on his own hands. Stupid Viro.

"What makes you ask?" Kendal's voice skipped a little, as though he hadn't expected Triclops' question.

"...When we were down in the caverns... and even now... I could feel something from you in the Force... it was like a scream that was so loud and raw, it echoed off of it's own echo. It was almost like when you hear someone screaming from down a hall, but it is still so loud, it makes you jump... that was what scared me, but... it was just so sad..."

Triclops' eyes shot open and his body jerked, involuntarily, to stare outright at the boy cowering in the opposite corner. Kendal almost instantly pressed himself flat against the wall, but relaxed as Triclops stilled. Those gray eyes that were so identical to his mother's fixed on Triclops' face, round with a sympathetic curiosity.

"I almost felt like I would start crying, just by feeling it from you."

Triclops stared, something inside him that he'd thought had long disappeared starting to move again, like a stream that had frozen all the way through starting to thaw and melt into a running river once more.

Was this – Triclops was arrogant enough to hope – the Force speaking to Kendal? Even if he didn't know why, was this the Force telling Kendal to be concerned about him? Even if Kendal didn't know... did he at least care? It almost seemed like cruel bait being dangled in front of him, waiting for him to start to believe so it could be snatched away. Triclops turned away and pressed the front of his forehead against the cool wall. It only made the throbbing more acute.

"I am... a wretched creature." He finally said. Kendal didn't say anything and Triclops didn't have the courage to look at his face and see the expression his son was wearing, "I am alone... and miserable. And it is that self-same misery that makes me malicious."

"I do not think you are malicious."

"Am I not? I was shunned and hated by all mankind when I enjoyed the freedom of my location. My own creator would have torn me to pieces, and triumph. In return, I would revenge my injuries: My existence became to inspire fear in my enemies, and the chief among them those left behind by my arch-enemy. I would work until all he built was destroyed, not finishing until I had desolated his entire being, so he would curse the hour of his birth." Triclops shook with each word, spitting the syllables and his eyes flickering under their lids. He could feel his fingers and hands trembling with rage.

"I do not believe that." Triclops turned his head just a little. Kendal was no longer fixed on him with wide eyes – rather, they were softer, as though he could see into Triclops' mind, "...I can tell that you really do want the Empire to fall... and for all the structures and systems the Emperor created to disappear... but it almost feels like you want that... more for the sake of other people than for your own satisfaction. Maybe you do kind of want to spite them... but it is not as strong as your wish for peace."

Triclops locked his eyes with Kendal's until the boy broke the gaze and started to trace the floor with his finger.

"At least... that is what I think."

Triclops sighed and turned back to the wall.

"...There was once..." His throat ached, just thinking about how much he was about to tell Kendal, "...I had someone... who did not turn me away." He heard Kendal perk up, then wilt before Triclops even continued, "...The Empire... destroyed that person."

Viro was being auspiciously silent through this whole discussion. Triclops supposed that the subject of Kendalina and Woman was sacred ground for even him. For once, he rather wished that his other face would start sniping about how much of a coward he was for not being able to tell Kendal more – about how strong she'd been, how paradoxical, how kind and harsh, how dysfunctional her mannerisms were, how her voice had never been sugary or honeyed but always sweet and savory, how...

Just thinking about it made Triclops' whole chest hurt. He couldn't even breathe through the pain.

"...They m-must have meant a l-lot to you..."

Triclops glanced out of the corner of his eye as he heard Kendal's voice crack. The boy was busily scrubbing tears off of his cheeks. For a moment, Triclops wondered if he'd said some of what he'd been thinking without realizing it, or if perhaps this was the Force attuning Kendal to how sharp Triclops' pain was.

"...Y-you are crying, too..." Triclops' hand lifted to his own face, one finger brushing along his lower eyelid. When he pulled it back, sure enough, there was a single droplet resting on his knuckle. He couldn't even manage the words to respond, until Kendal spoke again, "Who were they?"

Triclops ran one of his uncut nails along the crease in the metal panels of the floor.

"That person... was everything to me." He whispered. Kendal started sobbing again, forcefully wiping his face with the back of his hand over and over, until Triclops saw the skin turn red, "You?"

Kendal took a loud breath through his nose and tearfully blinked at Triclops.

"Do you have someone... who is important to you?" When Kendal simply blinked in response, Triclops went on, "Someone who, if you had it within your power, you would never want to see them unhappy. Someone who you would willingly give everything you had for and never even think of asking for something in return? Someone who, if they asked it of you, you would take your own life for, even as your heart broke at the request?"

Kendal continued to blink, the last few tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes. For a second, Triclops contemplated continuing, but Kendal raised his eyes to the ceiling, then followed a path down the wall to the floor, then back up.

'He's thinking of SOMEone...' Viro noted, amused, 'Peck at him if he says 'no'.' A moment later, it became clear that Triclops wouldn't need to. Kendal blinked a few times, but his lips split open, ready to answer.

"Yes. There is someone."

Triclops nodded, urging him to go on.

"...Commander Luke Skywalker."

Triclops' eyes widened of their own volition.

'Oh.'

Yes. Oh.

* * *

"Oh, NO..." Kadann didn't sound entirely displeased as Gornash finished relating what he'd seen. It was just enough to make him wonder why this was such a good development, and why Kadann simultaneously seemed unhappy, "Oh, no, no, no... I can't STAND it!"

He started snickering. Gornash felt his nails peel backwards at the sound.

"Even though it's the perfect angle to manipulate, you're DISPLEASED, Kadann?" Jedgar was the only one Gornash had ever heard address Kadann, especially by name. He certainly couldn't bring himself to say the name – not knowing they were all just aliases, anyway.

"It's too EASY!" Kadann finally gave up and collapsed into hysterical laughter. Gornash failed to see the humor; maybe a nice, long-sleeved coat and a padded white room would be funnier, "The child is... is..."

"A twelve-year-old boy with a crush?" Tilus guessed.

"Likely to get his ass kicked by the manly-men in the Alliance army?" Barnaby.

"Queer?" Eris.

"Asking for it?" Mammar.

"Or vulnerable." Jedgar finally said. Gornash warily eyed the tallest of the Prophets, not at all comfortable with the way his whole face seemed to light up. Kadann was still cackling in his chair, but when he finally recovered, it was all business again.

"Well, we have our agent inside the Alliance. Now, all we need to do is wait. The situation will present a ripe opportunity – if left to the fertile ground."

A/N: Aaaaand... did this really take me that long to write?

In my defense, I have a good excuse for not updating. And yes, I realize that I lie all the time and nobody believes anything that I say, but this time, it's for reals:

I will be publishing a book with Ravenwood Press by summer of 2010. My deadline is 200 pages by May. So, yes – these two projects will be put on serious hiatus. Maybe I'll update in that time, maybe I won't. It really will depend. For now, goodbye.


	23. Part III: Chapter 3

PRINCE

By Sapadu

A/N: Holy Crap! I'm alive! Um... I mean... wow, it's been awhile, huh?

Chapter 3: Short Skirt, Long Jacket

"She is fast, thorough, and sharp as a tack; she's doing the facility and picking up the slack."

On Luke's mental list of Things-to-Do, this had been the one he was not looking forward to.

They had landed just fine; safely, securely, and without any trouble. Han had gotten the connection ahead and the Alliance's soldiers had captured Dustini for questioning, just as he'd been attempting to sabotage a fleet of X-wings. Along with him, Triclops was patiently awaiting his turn to be debriefed by Intelligence and Lady Mothma.

All of that had been fine. That was military business. It was necessary and it was just as much for the war effort as it was for the safety of the other soldiers.

Waiting with Ken inside the medcenter headquarters, on the other hand, made Luke feel quite ridiculous. Virtually every three minutes, someone would stop and stare, as though wondering why they were present. Obviously, the medics had enough to do already, and it was more than evident that there were few, if any, pediatric specialists. Any other soldiers in the sickbay were there for emergencies.

What made it worse, though, was that Luke couldn't help but kick himself for not thinking of it sooner, possibly on a planet which might actually have a decent hospital instead of an army's sickbay. Instead of real rooms, there were cloth screens separating the chamber into cubicles. Luke could see silhouettes of the soldiers and medics behind them and hear groaning, vomiting, and all other sorts of uncomfortable sounds.

If Ken was embarrassed or uncomfortable, he wasn't showing any of it – in fact, he wasn't speaking at all. Every other bat of his eyelids, he was looking around at either wounded or sick soldiers or equipment being ferried back and forth between the staff. In all honesty, Luke wasn't sure if the boy was impressed or terrified out of his wits.

"Get a pair of tweezers and pull the lego out of his nose. Simple, effective, and you don't need to come to the medcenter for it." Luke had to look over his shoulder at a blonde woman who was slumped against the wall and glaring at him out of her single green eye.

"...That's not what we're here for..." He assured her, trying to smile as politely as possible, "And I think I heard someone mention the ophthalmologist..."

"I ain't here for any exam or nothing." The woman interrupted, reaching into a pocket of her oil-stained pants and pulling out a box of what looked like tobacco, "What's wrong with the little squirt, then?"

Luke blinked at her, completely bewildered. He knew that he could at least recognize everyone in the base, if not name most of them. She, on the other hand, was not only new, but he hadn't even realized they'd had new recruits.

'Maybe I wasn't listening when it was mentioned... or maybe it just didn't come up...' Either way, having a stranger in the base unsettled him.

"I don't know."

The stranger chewed on her tobacco.

"Fine, I'll ask him, then." She pushed away from the wall and paced around until Ken was staring up at the strange lady, "Kiddo, why're you here?"

Ken blinked.

"Because Luke said he wanted a medic to check me out." He honestly replied, before immediately asking a question of his own, "Is that your real hair color?"

Luke had to stop himself from slapping himself in the forehead.

"It used to be neon green, but it clashed with my eyes." The lady replied, sweetly sarcastic. Ken's eyebrows raised, but then lowered as he shrugged.

'He actually thinks she's being honest...' Even at this point, Luke could not believe how air-headed his apprentice could be at times.

"What're you getting checked out for?" She kept going.

"I keep getting sick for no reason and neither of us know why. What happened to your eye?"

"If the label reads 'Do not allow to come into contact with eyes', don't let it come into contact with your kriffing eye."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What kinds of sick?"

"Throwing up, fever, fainting... but it has been something different each time. What is your name, anyway?"

"An ugly one. What's your diet been like, lately?"

"Ration bars. What color bra are you wearing?"

This time, Luke had to cover his mouth to stop an outright laugh from coming out. The lady started to smile, her glare still stuck firmly in place.

"Have you ever contemplated or attempted suicide?"

Ken shrugged as innocently as he could. Luke had to hold his breath to restrain himself.

"I thought we were playing a question game. Is it my turn?" Ken asked, rather bravely for the look the lady was giving him. Luke sat up a bit straighter as the woman turned the glare on him.

"Nice kid." She sneered, then turned back to Ken with a scowl.

"Medic Dank, we've got a sick pilot in one of the cubicles." Interrupted a medical droid from the sidelines before the lady could start ranting on Ken. Luke had to blink between the droid and the woman, very convinced he had heard incorrectly. There could not be any chance this woman was a medic. She didn't even have clean hands for the job.

"If it's the stoner with the mustache, bandage his broken finger and tell him to quit poking himself." Dank groused, not even turning away, "Gotta patient, here."

'Major Derlin, why can't you at least be polite to the people curing you?'

"When was the last time you had any shots, kid?" Dank asked Ken, drawing the tobacco stick into her mouth and chewing, as though it were some kind of candy. Ken responded almost immediately, pushing back against the wall and wearing the most frantic expression Luke had ever seen.

"I have never been shot in my life." He answered, voice shrill. This, Luke did not find as amusing.

"Immunized or vaccinated. They're called shots is because medics use injecting needles." He corrected. Ken stopped panicking, but didn't relax. Medic Dank looked even less amused than Luke felt.

"You've never had any vaccines before?" She asked, suspiciously. When Ken meekly nodded, Dank chomped on the last of her tobacco and gave Luke a dirty look, "Is this the kid you found buried alive that I saw on your file?"

Luke frowned right back at her.

"...Possibly..." What had she been doing with his files? And where was it anywhere in there that he'd found an apprentice, underground, on Yavin Four? It didn't seem like something that any of the administration or higher command would care about. And wasn't that information supposed to be confidential, anyway? He would have had to put some kind of notice in there – not someone else, without his knowledge.

Medic Dank rolled her eyes, then dug her hands into her pockets and pulled out a pad of flimsiplast and a pen.

"This..." She said, scrawling something on the flimisplast, "Is a prescription for immunosteroids."

"I have been working out!" Ken protested. Dank ignored him.

"So, he has no immune system? Is that why he's allergic to something or...?" Medic Dank ripped off the flimsiplast with such a loud tearing noise that Luke actually jumped.

"Allergies come from having an OVER-reactive immune system. He HAS one, but it's a really pathetic, UNDER-reactive one. So, if he gets sick, his body isn't prepared to fight it off." She said, irritably. When Luke just continued to stare at her, she added, in a tone that clearly expressed her disdain for his lack of medical background, "It's the OPPOSITE of having an allergy."

Again, Luke continued to stare, more out of an inability to guess what reaction she was expecting. Either she had expected this or was just finished with trying to explain, but Medic Dank held out the flimisplast.

"Skywalker brat..." Luke had to put a hand over Ken's mouth as the boy got to his feet and opened his mouth to shout, "You get this filled next time you're in a civilized system with a decent pharmacy – we ain't got none, here." Luke took the prescription without any argument. "You..." Medic Dank pointed at Ken, "Go roll in the mud, catch a few frogs, and shake hands with someone who hasn't washed, recently."

Luke grabbed Ken's elbow and dragged him out of the sickbay before he actually started taking Medic Dank seriously. Ken followed, rather easily for how quickly Luke was getting away from the sickbay.

"Am I going to have to get shot, Luke?" Ken asked, as soon as they were out of hearing range of any sickbay noises. Which, of course, meant Luke immediately wished for a medic to give him the correct answer.

"I hope not." He finally managed.

Ken didn't look terribly reassured. If anything, he looked even more anxious. Luke could feel Ken starting to sweat through the cloth of his sleeve.

"Am I going to get sick again if I take that medicine she told you to get?" Again, a question that Luke really didn't know the answer to, but he just couldn't say that.

"I'm also hoping not on that one, too."

"The stuff she told me to do; it sounded like she wanted me to pick up pathogens."

"I wouldn't pay much attention – we'll go back when she isn't there and get you scanned by a medical droid." That was all Luke could really think – he really had serious doubts that this woman had been a medic, or at least that she'd accurately diagnosed the problem when she hadn't even heard what had been wrong.

"Oh. Okay."

There was a pause.

"Ken?"

"Yeah?"

"...Where did you learn that question you asked about her... bra?"

"Major Janson."

"...Really?"

"Yeah – he said it is a question you have to ask a woman if you want to score, and since she was winning the question game–"

"Ken."

"Yeah?"

"I don't want you talking to Major Janson anymore."

* * *

Leia prided herself on being a good judge of character and always giving new recruits in the Alliance a fair chance. She almost never held a grudge against someone she'd just met, and she was confident that, even if she had a gut instinct to not like them, her emotions never showed on her face.

Still, there was a reason she didn't like this woman. It wasn't because she was dangerous – although she had proved that by throwing a soldier into the wall on the opposite side of the room. It wasn't because she was crude or callous or impudent – showing up in stained and fraying clothes for a meeting with Mon Mothma seemed just a tad impolite, in Leia's opinion. It wasn't even because she had that general look of wear and tear that generally described pirates and untrustworthy rogue characters, from the eyepatch over her face to the Corellian bloodstripe running down the sides of her pants.

The real reason...

"An' what planet are y'all from, again?" The lady casually asked Han.

"The Eldest Brother, himself. Grew up in the spaceports." Han bantered. The woman made an unsavory noise and a face to match it.

"Ah. Talus, for me. Never got to any of the other Brothers."

"Ain't missing out on much."

"But, it's all our home planet systems. Sayin' yer Corellian an' never setting foot on Corellia; ain't it like saying yer royalty, but never lived in a palace?"

Well... Leia just didn't see why she SHOULD like this lady.

"An' girlie! What're y'all doin' over there?"

Leia was very proud of herself for not scowling at this woman. Threepio wasn't any help, either.

"Well, she does seem rather friendly." He commented, pleasantly clanking his way out of the corner. Not about to be shown up in manners by a protocol droid, Leia pushed herself away from the wall, not replying as she followed.

"What's been going on in the old stompin' grounds, anyhow? There ain't nothing we should be worried about, is there?" Han asked, somehow sounding casual. Leia didn't believe it for a second – she knew that he was thinking about the so-called information Dustini had meant to bribe them with.

The Corellian woman pulled another unsavory face.

"Ain't been shit since Corran Horn beat space dust a few months back."

"I heard there was a rebellion or somethin' going on. Ain't there a kinda uprising on the Empire's control happenin'?"

"Man, what the hell you talkin' 'bout, boy? There ain't nothing there."

Han made a non-committal grunt and leaned back against the wall, as if to deliberately show that he didn't care, really he didn't, but wasn't about to stoop to actually saying anything about it. That was when the door slid open to the conference chamber and Mon Mothma entered, looking drawn and pale in that stiff, dignified way that she always had.

"Captain Solo." She nodded, then turned to Leia, "And Princess Leia. I'm glad you two could make it." Leia could see Han glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. So, apparently, he hadn't been told that Mon Mothma had wanted to speak with them, either.

"We got back as soon as we could." Leia calmly replied, before it could seem as though they were taken aback by her statement. Mon Mothma's lips twitched, gratefully, before she turned to the Corellian woman Han had been hitting it off with.

"Medic Dank, I see you've met these two, already. Captain Solo and Princess Leia, this is Medic Elain Dank. She arrived just the day before you two returned from your mission."

A medic? Leia restrained herself from giving Medic Dank the dubious glance over she wanted to. The woman looked more like a spice smuggler – or addict – than a medical officer. And all of this just to be introduced to a mere medic? Leia hadn't been introduced, one-on-one to virtually any of the other soldiers or volunteers in the Alliance like this woman.

"Yer a MEDIC?" Thank the Maker for Han and his lack of tact. Leia didn't say or do anything, either to stop him or encourage. Dank simply snorted. Leia could practically feel the mucus in her own sinuses moving backwards just hearing it.

"I get that alla time, Bub."

Mon Mothma cleared her throat, as though Dank's noise had had a similar effect.

"On the occasion that something interesting comes into the sickbay. Medic Dank claims she has multiple skills in virtually every area the Alliance has need of – she's shown capabilities in combat of all sorts, claims to have done her own repairs on her ship, has skill with strategy planning and espionage..."

"And I can make a pretty mean spiceloaf." Dank added in. Mon Mothma paused and turned her attention to the woman, with that air that conveyed, quite simply, that she didn't appreciate being interrupted. Dank shrugged, "What? Just sayin'."

Mon Mothma turned back to Han and Leia.

"As one of our most involved leaders, and as our most active pilot, I was hoping the two of you might know of where our need was greatest."

Leia didn't know what to say. Fortunately, Han and Threepio eliminated any need for her to know.

"Sickbay'd be my guess." Han muttered, "Ain't it kinda over crowded as it is?"

"If anybody wanted my opinion on the matter, I should think that engineers would be most lacking. After all, a majority of our volunteers are just soldiers, and with the number of injuries and accidents occurring because of malfunctioning equipment, I would advise..."

"Well, y'all obviously don't need me here! I'll head out and see what's interesting." Dank didn't even wait for Mon Mothma to excuse her before she strode out of the room, swaggering and sashaying all at the same time.

Leia didn't stop herself this time – when Han let out a low whistle, she shot him the dirtiest look she could muster without resorting to physical violence.

"Impressed by a show-off? I'd have thought you'd be too busy bragging about your own useless talents." She didn't even try to stop herself from speaking sharply, and it gave her immense satisfaction when Han recoiled and put his hands up, as though on the defensive.

"Hey, your Worship, I ain't impressed by nobody, here." He muttered. If he'd gone any lower, Leia might have mistaken his voice for whining. Hell, maybe she'd go so far as to just go ahead and say that Han was whining, just to feel better about her own anger.

"You did a good job of ACTING like it. You didn't look away from her for one minute while she was in the room, even though you had no idea who she was." So she was jealous. Leia didn't care. Han had started it.

"I knew who she was – she was a fellow Corellian who didn't muck around or take shit from anyone, was good at what she did and knew it, too, and was saucier than smoked nerf on hotcake with endwa." Han shot back, not even rising to the occasion to taunt Leia for showing some emotion like he normally did.

"Actually, Captain Solo, Princess Leia brings up exactly why I called you two in." Mon Mothma tactfully put in, breaking their fight up in just the right moment. Leia gladly turned away from Han, more than happy to be proven right. Han gave Mon Mothma a grudging stare that would have been sullen if he hadn't been so proud.

"Our security officers and intelligence network have been spread thin around the base these last few weeks – that's how your last mission got so easily through, even though it was a false plant brought in by a spy. There is no reason to disbelieve that she might very well be an agent, as well."

Now THAT made sense. It would explain why Mon Mothma wanted to speak with all of them, especially. And it made sense that Mon Mothma would be suspicious of Dank. She had been too perfect, right to the point that not even Leia had been happy to hear about her skills.

"I already ensured that the other generals and commanders were aware of my suspicions when she first arrived here – yourselves and Commander Skywalker were the only ones not present. This woman has her own ship, she's fully and well armed, and shown she's more than willing to disrupt the peace if she wishes to. I want every soldier, every enlisted man and woman, every staff, even the mess droids and sanitary volunteers to be aware of her and the threat she may be."

So, that meant Luke was going to have to meet her and hear this speech.

"We'll make sure Commander Skywalker gets the message. He ain't dumb enough to let a spy walk around under his nose." Han reassured Mon Mothma.

* * *

"Oh, so THAT'S where she came from." Luke muttered as Captain Solo finished relaying the whole story in colorful detail. Ken kept his ear pressed against the wall – nobody knew that the divider between the two barracks on the ship was so thin, and he planned to take advantage of every syllable he could.

"You met this lady already?" Captain Solo asked.

"She was in the sickbay when I took Ken in for a check-up." Ken was glad that Luke didn't mention how the woman had diagnosed Ken's problem with just a glance. From the sound of Captain Solo's voice, he was irritated enough that there was a stranger in the base and he'd be even angrier if he found out Ken was listening to something he shouldn't have been.

"So, she wasn't kidding about being a medic." Captain Solo muttered. Ken heard Luke make a noise that he always made when he was shrugging, so Ken could only assume that Luke was shrugging, right then and there.

"She gave a good impression of knowing enough about medicine. I wouldn't say I believed it." Was his reply, "And, on an unrelated note, Major Derlin has a broken finger."

Captain Solo laughed. Why, Ken didn't understand.

"Right, I'll let Leia know, then." And Ken heard the door slide shut as Captain Solo left.

"Ken, come in here, please." On instinct, Ken jumped at the sound of his name. His next knee-jerk response was to deny that he could hear Luke, except he knew that it wouldn't do any good. So, recovering, Ken pushed the sliding panel open and peered into the room. Luke had his arms folded, but his face was soft and firm, like all the other times when he was supposed to be stern, but wasn't really upset.

"It's bad manners to listen to other people's conversations." And that was all, but that was all that Ken really needed to hear.

"Yes, Luke." Luke was still watching him with raised eyebrows, as though he were expecting something more, or something different, but either way, that he wasn't supposed to remain silent.

"Why were you listening in, anyway?" Oh. Ken didn't know what to say to that. "You should know better, and I would have told you if you'd asked, afterwards. Why would you snoop like that?"

Luke's arms were still crossed over his chest and the way he was looking down at Ken, it was enough to make him feel incredibly small. Of course, it wasn't like Ken would admit to it, and there wasn't really a good answer he could give.

_None of them trust you._

"Ken?"

Ken chewed on his lower lip, looking for some way he was supposed to answer. There had to be a right answer, somewhere. Something had to be correct.

"What's wrong?"

It was a simple question, but one that Ken didn't understand why Luke asked. He was still staring down at Ken, but his frown was deeper on his face, and in different places than before. Ken wasn't sure how to really describe it, or how it looked different. He could feel something different in it.

_Anything less than the perfect act and someone might notice._

Luke unfolded his arms and put a hand on Ken's shoulder. Almost immediately, Ken's mind went completely blank – no worry, no anxiety, nothing but a comfortable feeling that everything was okay. It was like Luke's skin was made of some sort of radioactive mircomatter that scrambled his brain.

"Ken, you don't need to hide this from me – something is bothering you and it's my job to help you with it." Ken could see straight into Luke's eyes, every line of dark blue that ran through his irises, the tiny ring of barely green blue that surrounded his right pupil, the little speck of brown on the edge of his left eye. Any clearer, and Ken would have seen through to Luke's retinas.

"Can I really tell you what it is?" Ken finally managed to speak. Not because he didn't think he could, but because he had this idea that if he said it wrong, he might end up causing even more trouble.

Luke's cheek twitched, almost into a smile.

"Yes, really."

Ken almost wanted to smile, himself, except what he was thinking was so serious, he couldn't do it. Inside, he wore the biggest straight-faced smile that he could ever imagine.

"Then..." Ken said, slowly, hoping he didn't sound like he was whining or pouting or any of those kid things. He wanted to sound like a grown-up, "Luke... I want to help."

Luke didn't answer right away. He didn't even change his expression. It was as though he hadn't heard quite clearly.

"Help?" Luke finally asked. Ken nodded, feeling a lump in his throat.

"During that last mission... I could not do anything. All I did was stand by and watch the whole time. You and Captain Solo did everything, and there was nothing I could do." Ken paused to force himself to breathe and calm down, "I do not want to do that again. I want to do something... something useful, instead of being dead weight all the time."

Luke was still blinking. Ken didn't understand why – he'd been thinking about this for a long time, it seemed perfectly obvious.

"Are you going to say that I am still just a kid?" Ken finally asked when Luke hadn't answered for a long moment. Luke raised his eyebrows.

"I am thinking it." He finally admitted.

Ken didn't respond to that. He settled for clenching his fist as discretely as he could.

"But there is something you could do." Luke continued, as though he could tell Ken was upset about not being grown up. Ken blinked, then straightened, listening, "...Actually, you're the only one who could do this..."

Ken did his best to look sharp and serious.

"But." Ken listened, impatiently, as Luke paused again, "This is something I have very serious reservations of letting you do. It could be dangerous, and it isn't your responsibility, so you shouldn't have to do this."

There was nothing Ken could say in response – he wasn't even sure what it could be that Luke could be so concerned about, at least that he would even consider telling Ken about. There were plenty of missions that Ken would have thought were cool or wanted to go on, but Luke wouldn't even think of mentioning those, nor think that Ken would be able to do them.

"What?"

Luke's eyes rolled a little and his lips tightened, before he finally seemed to come to a decision and looked back down at Ken.

"An interview." It wasn't entirely informative, but Ken did know that he could do that, "The interrogating specialists are going through any captives and prisoners of war for details of the Empire's interior workings... but one prisoner is refusing to cooperate."

So far, Ken understood. He nodded, but didn't say a word.

"But, he proposed an ultimatum – he wants to speak with you, in private, and in return, he'll answer the interrogator's questions." Luke was frowning, but Ken could tell that there was a very different expression he wanted to make. Ken's stomach was shivering with excitement; anxiety and unease, but also a glee that he might be able to be helpful in this opportunity.

"Who?" He finally asked. Luke shut his eyes, then opened them again, resolved.

"Triclops." Immediately, all the excitement drained right out of Ken's innards and left him shaking, as though he'd swallowed whole chunks of ice. The glee was gone and in it's place, Ken felt his intestines squirming in a sick fear. He was scared he might even puke, his gut feeling was so cold and shaky.

"...He wants me to... interview him?" Ken repeated, just to be sure he hadn't heard wrong. Luke's face tightened, as though he wanted to take back his words, but knew he couldn't.

"More of a talk. He didn't say he wanted you to do the questioning... it seemed more like he just wanted a conversation; to talk about nothing, as opposed to something in particular." He amended. That didn't ease Ken's nervousness.

"And he wants ME to do it?" He repeated. Luke nodded, grimly, "...Why?"

Luke blinked a few times, then tilted his head to the side. For a moment, Ken wondered if Luke could see something Ken couldn't, until Luke let out a quiet breath.

"I don't know."

* * *

In all his years of Alliance work; all the briefings, missions with the Rogue Squadron, preparations for battle, actual battles, and all the sheer waiting; Luke had never thought he could be as uneasy and nervous as he was right now. He'd called Leia and Han to supervise the interview with him – Leia for her understanding of politics and espionage, and Han for his judge of character. Inside the interrogation room, Ken was nervously curled up on a chair, staring at Triclops, bound to the other side of the table. It was so eerily silent that the room may well have been empty.

"What were you THINKING?" Leia asked as she remained perfectly still, glaring through the one-way window into the interrogation room. Luke was too busy pacing to really notice what she was glaring at.

"In all honesty? I was wondering that, myself." He admitted, sheepishly. Han stretched and yawned, looking as though he wished he had a chair to sit in and prop his feet up.

"It could be worse, Leia – we ain't counting on the kid to deactivate a bomb or nothing." He mumbled. Leia whirled on Han with a vicious glare.

"Han! That's not what this is about!" Luke stopped pacing for a moment to watch his sister. Her face was flushed a bright pink that Luke very rarely saw her turn. It was usually reserved for very tense occasions when she was both arguing and showing affection for Han. Han gave Leia one of his best incredulous looks.

"Then WHAT? What's so important that you're losing your hair buns over it?" He demanded. Leia opened her mouth as though to shout a particularly snappy retort, then closed it and look in Luke's direction. Luke said nothing, but met her eyes, steadily.

"_We need to alert Lady Mothma about this."_

After a moment, Leia just shook her head in a frantic, frazzled way. To Han, it must have looked like Leia thinking 'You just don't understand, all of you'. To Luke, it was pure, unadulterated frustration.

On the other side of the glass, Luke heard Ken begin to talk.

"Um... Mister Triclops, what did you want to talk to me about?" Luke turned his attention from Leia and watched the interaction. The way the two of them were sitting and staring at each other, he never would have guessed they were family – Triclops was expressionless and blank-eyed, as though he couldn't even see. Ken was cowering on the other end of the table. Even without the Force, Luke could tell that Ken was plainly terrified of Triclops.

"Anything." Triclops replied in a monotone. Ken swallowed, uncomfortably.

"...And... you are sure that you do not wish to speak with an adult... I am sure it would be a much more interesting conversation..." Ken offered, sounding small. Listening to them, though, Luke could notice similarities. The inflection and accents were very close, but subtle.

"I have been alone for a long time. I would rather speak casually than formally, after having nobody but the voices in my head to converse with." It was very well said, but Luke could tell that Triclops had already thought ahead and rehearsed his answers to any questions Ken would ask – almost like a play that Ken hadn't been allowed to see the script for.

"Anyone else think these two sound alike?" Han muttered. Out of the corners of their eyes, Luke and Leia glanced at each other before Luke turned more fully and openly shrugged.

"Oh." Ken finally muttered, and Luke was infinitely grateful that Ken at least had the sense not to ask Triclops why he'd asked for Ken, specifically.

"If you are so nervous, why did you agree to come?" Triclops finally asked.

"...Because you had asked." Even though Ken answered it normally, Luke could almost hear him wishing he had someone to ask 'That IS why I'm here, right?'

"No, no. You barely know me, and trust me even less. I have no importance. What does it matter if I ask?" Triclops wasted no time in responding. It was even more unnerving to Luke's ears, especially when he'd seen Triclops show so much concern over Ken that he'd been willing to risk his life to save him.

Ken's face turned unnaturally pale. He obviously hadn't liked hearing that answer.

"...Well, you have information that is necessary to the Alliance... and, since I am a part of the Alliance..." But this, too, sounded hesitant and fearful.

"That is still no reason. After all, it is not the responsibility of a child to interrogate or even interact with prisoners. Answer me honestly – what made you decide to take this weight on your own shoulders?" Triclops had tilted his head on it's side, awkwardly, as though he were unsure how to use the muscles in his neck to keep himself upright.

Ken shrank back from the table, still keeping his hands on the surface, but trying to increase the distance any way he could.

"I was asked, because you had asked, because this is important..." He offered, his voice growing quieter. Triclops tipped his head back up, then down to the other side.

"Asked?" He sounded genuinely curious, "Asked by whom?"

This time, Ken didn't even try to respond. He was eyeing Triclops' response with an evident expression of utmost disgust, as though he could see into the man's nostrils or something else particularly unpleasant.

"It could not have been a random adult in this base, so, obviously somebody in the chain of command. And, out of all those figures, it would have to be one who knows you, personally, and would be willing to confide this piece of information in you. Then, since it is plain that you do not wish to be here, that person would have to be somebody you to not wish to cause trouble for – somebody you wish to please."

"Creepy guy sure likes the sound of his own voice." Han muttered. Of course, the moment Han said it, Luke had to admit he felt shivers going down his back. He didn't even think he'd blame Ken if, once the interview was over, the boy ran to hide under his covers.

"No... just the effect of working everything out." Leia corrected, and Luke could see it, too. It was quite obvious that Ken was uncomfortable having this complete stranger analyze and interpret him so correctly. On the other hand, Luke could also see why Triclops would say these things – if the delivery was somehow different, these could very easily be a concerned father wanting to know more about his son's life. It was almost as though the man just didn't know how to properly express it and that, muddled with his unusual behavior and appearance, added up to an ultimately threatening look.

"Commander Skywalker asked me to do this... he said I was the only one who could... and that it would help the interrogation officers." Ken answered, when he'd recovered from his apparent shock. Triclops' hands were locked to the table, but he still twisted them enough to clap the tips of his fingers together in what might have been mocking applause.

"And you accepted because you do not want Commander Skywalker to look down on you." Luke wasn't sure if it was a question or if Triclops was stating it – the man's voice had a strange neutrality that way.

"I accepted because this was something that needed to be done. All of us have to do our part if we wish to see the Empire fall. You asked to see me, so I came. Now, it is your turn." Ken returned, but his voice was sharp, almost panicked. It was as though he'd buried something inside of him and was desperately trying to push Triclops away from digging it up.

"Oh." This was from both Leia and Han. Luke turned to see the looks on their faces – Leia's eyes were wide, but sharp, and Han had his mouth set in a grim, downward turn. Whatever it was, Luke could see that both of them were upset.

"What?" He finally asked. Leia sent him a look as though she'd seen something outrageous and obvious, yet that Luke had missed, despite looking the same way.

"...You don't get it, do you?" She muttered, snapping away and leaving Luke very confused. He glanced back at Han, who refused to make eye contact.

"Why would Commander Skywalker think that you would rise to this occasion? I was under the impression that he was a very responsible adult and most responsible adults don't offer to shove children into potentially dangerous scenarios." Triclops asked, craning his neck and back as though to try and capture a different angle of Ken's face, "Unless... you had volunteered yourself for any kind of assignment... asked him, specifically, if there was anything you could do to, as you put it 'Do your part'."

Ken visibly squirmed. Luke put a hand to his forehead to hide his eyes when Leia and Han glanced at him for confirmation.

"...I just thought it would be responsible..."

"But that is not what you are. Instead of showing maturity, it shows that you are insecure. Being insecure makes you want to behave in a more adult manner because you want to be thanked and treated as an adult, which would GIVE a sense of security." Triclops still had his head tilted in a singularly uncomfortable position. Luke's hand moved from his forehead to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was incredibly uncomfortable to see Triclops pin Ken down so perfectly with just a tiny bit of interaction.

And, inwardly, he agreed that Han was right about Triclops coming off as creepy.

"Why did you ask for a conversation in return for information, then?" Ken finally asked. Personally, Luke could tell that Ken was fighting every urge to continue arguing the point – the fact that he was changing topics and turning them back on Triclops in spite of his own stubbornness made Luke feel a surge of pride.

Triclops raised his scraggly, white eyebrows at the question.

"I have spent the last twelve years in a coma with no one to speak to, save the little voices inside my head." Was his answer when he did speak. Luke saw Ken's eyebrows flex.

"Twelve years?" He asked. With a jolt of alarm, Luke could almost see the gears turning inside Ken's head – his question hadn't been incredulity, but curiosity. Triclops had never asked anyone what year it was, so how would he know, automatically, how long he'd been asleep?

"Yes. And for twelve years before that, I was in the prison mines on Kessel being used as a lab rat." Triclops confirmed. His face was already so twisted that Luke couldn't tell if his expression was supposed to be neutral, or if he was pulling some kind of look of distaste.

"So, you were completely cut off from the galaxy for two dozen years?" Triclops nodded, "You don't know what kinds of events have taken place in the galaxy?" Nod. "Discoveries made by scientists?" Nod. "Inventions made?" Nod. "Not even how planets cultures or geographies have changed?"

Triclops nodded. He hadn't blinked for a single moment during this conversation. Ken's expression was slowly starting to brighten.

"Would there be anything else you would like, aside from conversation with someone? A way to get information about the galaxy?" He offered. Luke repressed a smile as he slowly started to figure out what Ken was thinking.

Triclops' eyebrows raised, again.

"Information?" He queried. Beside him, Luke heard Han make a grunt of understanding. Relief came over Luke – relief that at least Han understood where Ken was going with this.

"Yes. Holocasts, news articles, clips from journals..." Ken trailed off, but Luke could see Triclops filling in the blanks in his own head.

"Books." Triclops' right index finger was making a scrolling motion on the table, like one would make on a datapad. Luke wasn't sure if it was a habit, if he was doing it as a signal, or if it was just Triclops' muscles reacting because they were just readjusting to stimuli after being unused for so long.

"Books... what kind of books?" Ken asked, visibly becoming more friendly. Either that, or he was more comfortable now that Triclops wasn't analyzing him out loud. Triclops expression remained unchanged, so Luke supposed that meant he wasn't deliberately making a face.

"Any kind." Triclops shrugged with only one shoulder. His head was still tilted to the other side, "Fantasy, mystery, drama, action, romance..."

In unison, Han, Leia, and himself all made noises that matched Ken's confounded expression perfectly.

"...You want... fiction?" If there was a better way to sum up all of their confusion, Luke certainly couldn't think of it.

"...Yes..." Triclops said, slowly, as though it should have been perfectly obvious from the start. Ken continued to sit there, mouth hanging open like he'd been about to speak and somebody had just reached into his throat and taken the words right out of him.

"...Oh...kay..." Was all Ken could finally manage.

That was the end of the interview.

* * *

"Still don't get why it had to be us watching that freak show in there." Han muttered. Luke bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from answering Han with quite the venom he wanted to use and settled for tapping his toe against the wall of the Falcon's quarters. With the promised interview over, Han had wanted to get out of the interrogation rooms and back to his ship. Currently, he was bent over backwards and waist deep into the Falcon's control boards under the floor. Luke and Leia had taken positions on the farther sides of the room, only Chewbacca being brave enough – and Ken being stupid enough – to get near Han when he was being moody.

"Captain Solo, if the Falcon always needs to be fixed, why do you keep flying it?" Ken asked, completely forgetting about his part in the process. Or, possibly, to keep himself distracted.

"These ain't repairs, kid – it's just work." Han called back, "Now, shut yer yap and hand me the engine tape."

Ken handed Han the engine tape, but didn't stop talking.

"It just does not seem practical to keep fixing on your ship if it is already working." Ken insisted. It would have been much more annoying if Luke wasn't one-hundred percent certain that Ken was talking because he was honestly curious. Either way, Han had been short and irritable for the past two hours, seemingly for the sole reason that he'd been dragged away from his precious ship just to watch Triclops pick Ken's brain.

"It don't seem practical to me to lock yerself up with a psycho just because he ain't had decent human company for two decades." Han retorted, mockingly mimicking Ken's unusual accent.

"That's what had me concerned – he said he'd been in a coma for twelve years." Leia finally spoke up. Luke bit harder and wondered why Chewbacca wasn't batting Ken away when it was obvious his presence was annoying Han. Maybe the Wookie thought it would build character, or maybe it was payback for something Han did.

Ken's head popped up from where he'd been craning to try and watch Han work.

"Luke, people who have been in comas for years do not just suddenly wake up again, do they? I thought that it was medically impossible." The frown was back, which made Luke all the more wary.

In all actuality, he was quite certain Triclops hadn't really been in a coma – with what he knew of the Force and it's influence, he rather suspected the man had willed himself into a coma-like trance for the last dozen years – but he wasn't about to say that with Han and Leia in the room, and especially not with how observing the interview had made them both come out much more hostile than usual.

Actually, he wasn't sure what disturbed him more – how Ken had interacted with Triclops, or how short and tenacious Leia and Han had become after watching it.

"I'm not sure – but it does sound like a good point to run past a medic." Luke had barely said the words before Han popped back out from under the ship's floor. He was wearing an almost manic grin – one that usually preceded some crazy stunt to evade capture or to destroy an enemy ship.

"I just got a really BAD idea." And from the way his eyes were glinting, Luke strongly suspected it was a 'bad' idea that would work very, very well.

* * *

Medic Dank was right where Han had thought she'd be – hiding between the crates in the medical supply room and flicking her way through a datapad of symptoms shown by various soldiers and staff. She put it aside when Han mentioned the question about Triclops.

"I've never heard of a Human patient who could just wake up from a coma. Longer comas are the least likely for recovery. Which means either this guy wasn't really in a coma..." She slowly started smiling in a way that Han was fairly certain he started to when something caught his interest, "...Or this is something totally different."

"Think you could do an evaluation? We ain't about to keep a head patient in a prison hold." Han asked, even as Dank wiggled her way out of her hiding space.

"Sure." She muttered, not looking at Han and grinning, "Oh, this is gonna be fun."

A/N: Wow... um, I really guess I don't have an excuse for being this goddamn late. And, for those of you peeved about seeing a new character who seems destined to be a Mary Sue... I promise, I'll make her unlikeable... in a way that'll make her easy to like. If that makes sense. But, no, the fics are not dead. I'm still writing. Just... slowly.


	24. Part III: Chapter 4

PRINCE

By Sapadu

A/N: Wherein we will hit the real reason why it's hard to rewrite the Jedi Prince series with a serious slant, intended for older readers: It's main character is TWELVE! There's not a whole lot you can really DO at that age without it being insipid and immature, or otherwise totally unrealistic in a Gary Stu way. You're too old to go running to your parents and the adults every time someone tries to beat up on you or cry when you get hurt, but you're still too young and too stupid and useless to actually defend yourself and stand a real chance. THIS is why I HATE people who rag on the original books – because they're missing that the focus character literally doesn't stand a chance in a galaxy at war, at least not in a way that could be done seriously, so the original books DIDN'T take themselves seriously. It's almost impossible to redo this and make it serious!

But... hell if I'm not gonna try!

...Yeah, writers block and Darth Real Life have been kicking my ass lately (By lately, yes, I do mean the whole eight months. Every kriffing second of it.) Sorry for taking it out on you guys.

Chapter 4: The Cell Block Tango

He had it coming, he had it coming/ he had it coming, all along/ I didn't do it, but if I'd done it/ how could you tell me that I was wrong?

Luke paced the floor, anxiously. For reasons beyond his comprehension, Ken had been unofficially given the task of being Triclops' personal interrogator. Every few days or so, Ken sat on one side of the table, Triclops restrained at the other, and they just... talked. All their conversations were recorded, and the Intelligence people were analyzing Triclops' words and actions more than anyone had any right to do. So far, Ken kept his questions to very conversational ones – it would have almost been a waste of time, except Intelligence was convinced Triclops would at least have data on the Empire's inner structures they could use, and Ken was the only person Triclops would willingly speak to. Luke knew only too well that other officers in the Alliance resented Triclops for playing this game.

But, the most mind-boggling of all was that Luke actually gave his okay. And that Ken was taking the job to heart.

Was that irresponsible of Luke? Or was it a good idea to at least give Ken a chance to get some experience, rather than trying to shield him forever? It wasn't a call that Luke had been comfortable making – his first experience in training and actually helping the Alliance had been much later in life. He'd at least known how to pilot a ship and defend himself. Ken didn't know either of those things. Or really, anything.

Of course, Luke could console himself since he knew that Ken was in no real danger. But that made it worse, that he wasn't even being completely honest. If something DID go wrong – suppose that other personality that could take control of Triclops from time to time came out and decided he didn't care about the boy's welfare – Luke wasn't even giving Ken enough information about what he was getting into.

Except, in a small, paranoid way, Luke wondered if Ken hadn't figured it out, already. Triclops had said nothing, at least not outright. But there were little mannerisms that made it uncomfortably obvious. Or was Luke just seeing them because he was worried about it, or because he already knew, himself?

Through the glass, Luke could see and hear Ken and Triclops in conversation, this one about one of the books Triclops had asked for – some compilation of fairy tales, of all things. Side by side, Luke could see the similarities. It was as though because he saw them, it was all he could see – Ken had Triclops's ears and the bump on the very end of his nose, his speech tics, the same twitch in his fingers, and – though Luke was the only one to know, as he was the only one to have ever seen Ken with his bangs pulled back – the exact same steepled, pointed widow's peak.

But, of course, he was LOOKING for them. That could have accounted for everything that Luke was suspecting, right now.

Luke didn't know, and this not knowing made him...

"Time's up." Observed the guard, sounding a buzzer and signaling the end to the conversation for the day – Luke hadn't paid much attention to exactly what they were saying, but he knew that Ken had been taking an interest in the books. To Luke, it seemed like it was another obvious trait the two of them had in common that was surfacing. The interrogation people were going to be very annoyed.

_Anxious_. That was the word.

Luke did his best to not act as anxious as he felt when Ken stumbled out of the booth with a fixated expression on his face – like he was trying to look like he was concentrating on something when he really wasn't thinking all that hard.

There was silence as they walked, side by side, down the passage towards the engineering rooms. At long last, just as Luke anticipated, Ken broke it.

"Commander Skywalker, do you know any members of the Alliance who have children?"

Luke looked back over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows, but kept walking.

"Not personally, no. But there are many members who have families. Some had to bring them along because the danger was too great to leave them alone."

"Oh." And then Ken went silent again, the air thick with disappointment that Luke hadn't expected.

After a few more minutes of the unpleasant lack of cheerful jabber, Luke finally paused at a door and gave Ken another glance.

"Why do you ask?"

Ken's eyes remained fixed on the ground.

"Well, I wondered if I could observe any of them, to see if this theory I had was right."

Luke considered this. It was, indeed, a good idea to test theories, and if all it included was observation, he didn't see what would be so difficult. Then, it occurred to him exactly why he was nervous – because, up until this point, Ken had never shown any sign of mental competency that he'd start forming theories.

"What theory is this?" Luke managed to keep his voice casual, or encouraging. Yes, that was it – he was just encouraging his student to want to learn and improve. There was nothing beyond that.

Ken blinked at him, as though puzzled that Luke would ask that question.

"I think Mister Triclops has a son."

* * *

Just when Dalina had started to get bored, the galaxy threw THIS at her.

How considerate.

Cloud City was starting to get quiet, what with the old slug being in charge. The first month or so had been nice and busy, there'd been plenty of new engineering and reconstructing going on to accommodate the creature. Dalina had played with it like her own, personal playground, except there were things falling and being cut and welded together.

And things that set fire to other things. Dalina had liked those.

This month had started off quietly, though – oh, sure, some of the civilians in the mining colony had talked of throwing the slug out the window, and some organized meetings went on. But that was all boring. Dalina had just been wondering if she should stir them up a little. With some kind of organized strike on their organization or something.

And then, the ship arrived. And who would it happen to be carrying, but Master Retaw and another Barabel with a scar across her face?

So, who could really fault Dalina if she'd had the brilliant inspiration to send a code to the closest Imperial starfleet, signaling to them that a former Jedi was on Bespin, as well as one of the warlords attempting to usurp the throne and take control of the Empire?

One of three things would happen: It would reach the ears of Director Commander Isard, and the forces loyal to her would come and dispose of both; or the Grand Moffs would hear of it and come and attempt to rescue their glorified pawn and crush Master Retaw; or both would come, attempt to destroy the Jedi and fight to the death over the warlord.

Either way, Dalina's entertainment was ensured. Hopefully, it would involve a lot of explosions.

And blood. She liked blood.

"Sorry, Jii Dalhouise. But, I was getting bored." Dalina apologized, taking her uncle's credit pouch out of his pocket, "...And really, you shouldn't have told me about THAT. It's your own fault."

She slid the door open to the room she and her uncle had been staying in on the lower levels of the colony. Traders and engineers used these rooms, frequently. Nobody had questioned their presence. Then, with perfected practice, Dalina let out her best scream as she ran out into the hall.

"Somebody! Somebody help! We need a medic!"

The other occupant who came to help her looked as baffled as Dalina was acting. Only with less hysterical screaming and crying.

"What happened to him?" He – it happened to be a he – asked, examining her uncle's burned head and neck. Dalina continued to babble, attempting to convey the scenario as best she could.

"The stove... the stove... there was fire... it was fire and he... he... he... accident... tripped and fell..." She blubbered. And, really, it was mostly true.

Who was to fault her if he'd happened to trip and fall into the open flame on the stove five times?

* * *

When they'd arrived, there had been little to no acknowledgement. Not that Mehgan was complaining – given that her first visit to Cloud City had brought the Baron Administrator down to greet them on security reasons, personally, she was glad that this visit had been particularly uneventful.

It did, however, annoy her that, the next day, there had been an entire starfleet in orbit above the planet, descending and docking quite literally right next to the port that she and Gwen had landed in.

"This one doezn't think it a coincidence..." Gwen sissed, peering out through the window on the port side of the ship. Mehgan said nothing to that – mostly because she knew it wasn't a coincidence. She could feel it in the Force – something or somebody had engineered for this to happen.

When she tried to reach out and find who it was, though... all she was met with was a sense of joy and childish playfulness. Like the person who had engineered this, while they did it deliberately, it was as though they had no ability to comprehend the danger that it would put Mehgan and Gwen in. Or, if they could comprehend it, they weren't able to understand why it was a bad thing.

Also, the fact that Gwen had intercepted a transmission yesterday and decoded it to find a very blatant message: The Bespin System, the Tibanna gas mine in Cloud City, the current dock of a former Jedi refugee. Traveling with a Barabel smuggler. Come immediately.

"Should we go now, or should we wait?" Gwen finally asked, when she realized Mehgan wasn't going to respond to her comment.

"On the condition that you tell me exactly what you want done." Mehgan asked. And, really, it was less a demand to know the exact plan of action and more an indirect way of asking why Gwen held this particular brand of disdain for this 'Tibor' who had gotten into bed with the likes of a Hutt.

Gwen understood the real intention behind the question, as she flicked her tongue out and scowled at Mehgan.

"It'z per-zon-al." She sissed, her tail rigidly tapping on the floor with impatience. Gwen's tongue slithered up the side of her face and licked her scar.

Mehgan knew better than to question. And, in Gwen's case, she also knew better than to try and use the Force to feel out for any clues.

"Maybe a strategic retreat would be the safer option." Mehgan finally offered. At this rate, if either one of them ventured outside the ship, even if it was for a reload of supplies, they'd be caught. Neither of them was sure how much intel the Imperials and the Cloud City Police had on herself and Gwen, though she was willing to bet that Gwen's face was on a few posters – she was a smuggler, after all.

"How? They've got the docks watched." Gwen asked. Mehgan didn't respond, but continued to stare out the viewport, mind ticking away at possibilities. Even if it hadn't been officially declared or tested, the several cruisers, both in the docking bay and in orbit were an effective blockade.

"Perhaps if we could get to a computer terminal... we could do a few things – send a virus to their computers to scramble their frequencies, or communicate misinformation to keep them away from us, or just cut them off, entirely." At this point, this was more thinking out loud than it was planning. Gwen didn't even seem to be listening, "Or one of us could hack into their mainframes and study their orders and plans. Or just sneak aboard and steal a ship to use as cover."

"We don't know whose fleet this is. If it's the She-Bitch, she'll order her sharpshooters to blast us." Gwen pointed out, at last. And this, Mehgan knew was true – Commander Isard had no use for pilots who didn't follow her orders.

"Then, we find out whose fleet it is. If it is Isard's, we can fake it from there, but if it's just the Committee of the Grand Moffs, it does us no good to sit and pretend it's Isard." She argued. Gwen glared.

"And how do you suggest we get that far?" Her voice held a note of disdain, "This one ain't about to get her tail yanked off for the likes of you."

Mehgan thought about it for a moment. The message hadn't given a very decent description of the persons it referred to, but, on the other hand, this was the Empire. They had a level of strict organization and massive troop strength to make details unnecessary. A force like theirs could occupy a whole colony and investigate in a matter of hours.

And, of course, if it was the famed Director of Intelligence, the woman was probably plotting a trap or other psychological tactic that would make it unnecessary for the troops to search, door to door, ship to ship.

If it was just the Grand Moffs, then their biggest problem was Gwen. Any Barabel would stick out and be put under surveillance, and Mehgan wasn't going to risk any bets that there might be more Barabels in the city, at all.

"Then, I'll go on my own." She finally said. The next big problem was that they would be looking for a Jedi – she'd have to forego her robe and leave her lightsaber behind in a well-hidden place, "Do you have any clothes that will fit me and not make me look like a smuggler or a Jedi?"

Gwen looked her over, then sissed with amusement.

"Yes." She answered, "But, if you're really the lezzer that raised Princess, This One doesn't think you'll like them."

* * *

Just because she was the Director of Intelligence and the greatest interrogator the Empire had ever had didn't mean Ysanne Isard was above getting her hands a little dirty. In fact, she rather enjoyed the rare opportunities to go undercover and work in the field. In her mind, it served three purposes.

One – she remained trained and in control and her experience continued to be firsthand, and, therefore, gave her the best experience possible.

"Lieutenant, what else do the floor plans of the mining colony show on this floor?" She asked, casually leaning against the wall of a corridor she had not heard about in the briefing. The officer on the other end replied in a timely fashion.

"Ma'am. After the south end corridors and engineering rooms remain a single repulsorlift shaft that will lead to live-in quarters for the workers that maintain the engineering equipment. No other information shown, Madam Director."

"Then, we either have defective agents or this corridor is entirely new. Which of the two is it?" Already, Isard knew that it was likely a new construction – the corridor was two meters wider than any others on the floor, so it was likely added in for the new Baron Administrator of Cloud City. The other corridors were wide enough for a Hutt, but nobody would be able to walk alongside him.

Still, it would be a pain to have to change the maps if they needed a complete outline of the City. She hadn't heard any reports from the other half of her strike force – Agent Farwell had gone to the upper levels to scout, while Isard worked from the lower levels, up. Perhaps there had only been a few floor layout changes, but it seemed incredibly unlikely to her that so few changes would have been made to Cloud City when one of the lower, less trafficked levels had had such a serious redesigning. That only left the problem with her agent.

"Ma'am. The most likely explanation seems that our agents may not be supplying us with as timely updates as they should." The Lieutenant answered.

Two – by taking matters into her own hands, she maintained a level of loyalty from the troops. Nobody questioned her ability to lead and defend herself that saw her in the field. And those who did, the other troops either reported to her, or dealt with them before they did any damage.

Isard smiled.

"Good answer, Lieutenant. Connect me with our expert in computer security, and I want to be sure you hear what she has to say." Isard heard the Lieutenant clicking away at the communicator to bring a communication line up.

"Agent Clouseu, reporting Madam Director." Came the thickly accented voice that Agent Clouseu somehow communicated with. Isard didn't bother with the defect – the woman was brilliant with computer code and wasn't impossible to communicate with. The troops did sometimes think that her voice and accent was annoying, but as it had never hindered the information she gave out, Isard had never heard a complaint.

"Agent, how quickly can you slice into the databanks of the Grand Moff's ship? I want access to all the files they're updating and any information they're finding on the City's layout. Then, I want you to find the floor plans in the City's computer. Cross reference them so we have a complete layout of what the Moffs know about and what they don't so our troops can launch an effective sneak attack." Or, at the very least, it would tell her what the whole of the Committee of Grand Moffs and the forces loyal to them were doing here. Did they really think she wouldn't notice when their entire fleet disappeared from Coruscant, without any warning, and without contacting her, first?

"Very quickly, Madam Director." Agent Clouseu replied. True to fashion, all the agents she'd brought on her strike force were taking the mission to heart. It was as though they all sensed their commander's bloodlust at the prospect of putting down a mutiny, and instead of retreating in fear, they were all feeding off of it.

That was good – it told her which officers and agents she could put to difficult missions. It also told her which ones still needed their mettle tested.

"Lieutenant." Isard commanded. She could almost see him snap to attention through her comlink.

"Ma'am. Understood, Madam Director."

Three – why let her soldiers have all the fun?

Isard pulled her hair back into a tie and started down the hallway, dressed as a welder with the necessary equipment. If she ran into trouble, she had a blaster disguised as a hand drill. And she certainly saw many opportunities for trouble – there were plenty of panels that she could see separated from the wall. With just a little scrutiny, she could see that they were mostly hidden routes for the Cloud City police and security teams to use. Perhaps if the old slug came through this route and needed a guard detail, these were the extra precautions.

After perusing the floor, Isard made her way to the next level, only to have a child slam right into her. A young girl – not likely even in her teens, yet – landed flat on the floor.

She wouldn't deny it – this was the part about field missions that DID annoy her. Having to play the roles that she so despised.

"Watch where you're going – if I'd been a second later in putting my drill in my pocket, it would have gone right through your stomach."

The girl blinked up at her, as though braindead. Her eyes were a clear, bright gray that almost seemed glossed over, adding to the effect.

"You're new here, huh, Miss?" She finally got to her feet, effectively stopping Isard from getting out of the repulsorlift without shoving her to the side, "I ain't seen you around here, before."

Isard shrugged, working up the best story she could on short-hand.

"Just a contract-hired electric technician. I've been here before." The girl continued to give her that wide eyed stare. It was like trying to give orders to a droid with defective receptors.

"Then, you got some pretty old floor specs – that lift don't take you nowhere near any electric equipment. Everything got all screwed up when Jabba the Hutt's old slug took charge." At this point, Isard did her best to act impatient – not so difficult – and edge the girl out of her path, "Hey, do you want me to show ya around? I ain't got nothing else to do, and I can get you there quicker than asking directions."

Isard took a moment to think how quickly Agent Clouseu would be able to get into the Cloud City databanks. If their security was lax, she should already be in. If it was good, it would take a while, and then navigating might still be difficult, based on what they read. It would save time.

"Sure, just let me contact my supervisor." She said, stepping off to the side. If nothing else could be garnered from this interaction, she could at least get a precise detail of how drastically the floor plans had changed. The brain-dead child contentedly stared out of one of the windows, into the golden brown clouds.

"Clouseau, I'm running a little late. Do you know where I am?" She spoke into the comlink. Clouseu, being one of Isard's agents and therefore, not stupid, responded in a perfectly matched code.

"I've got a good idea. Things are looking comfortable on this end. Already got the project all divvied up." Blast. So, Clouseu had managed to get into the Cloud City computer, but the files had been tampered with so they were useless – likely the work of another slicer.

So, Isard was left with no choice, but to follow this girl.

"I'm sure I'll fit in there, somewhere. Be up, soon."

When Isard turned around, her self-appointed guide was missing. Cursing the child, wherever she'd gone, Isard went back the way she'd come. In a few steps, where a doorway led to the outside terrace, Isard heard a single blaster shot, followed by a shout. When she poked her head around the corner, the girl was leaning on the railing, staring into the clouds.

Something didn't seem... right...

"I thought you were going to show me where the electric box was?" Isard asked, sticking her hand into her pocket and fingering the trigger of her blaster. The girl turned and giggled.

"Y'all better be careful with these balconies, Miss – they're good enough for me, but..." The girl patted the railing, "For a tall Miss like you, all it takes is for ya to lean over and slip. Ain't nobody ever even been found that fell off these railings."

Isard didn't comment, but let her impatience show.

The girl pushed back from the railing and went skipping off, in a direction completely different than before. Her heels clicked on the clean tile floor, as if she had little metal plates attached to the bottoms of her shoes.

"Y'all don't mind taking no scenic tour, do ya, Miss? There're some new things the old slug added to the decorations on the walls – really ruins the Cloud City atmosphere, though." She asked, "Everything's all tied together, anyhow – no matter what halls or which turns you take, they all go the same place."

* * *

Adjusting the incredibly itchy straps of her costume, Mehgan strode down the hallway. Every step in the new shoes made her ankles wobble and her body feel ready to tip clear over. It also didn't help that she couldn't feel her toes, and her shoulders ached from the straps digging into them.

And the particular corridor that she was striding down, now, was crowded.

"Whoo!" Whistled a passer-by. Mehgan pulled her cover-up tighter around her buxom. Or, at least, as tight as the flamboyant feathers would allow her.

"I'd like to 'tip YOU out'!" Called another, oblivious to the fact that there were other ladies and even small children walking down the corridor.

"Show me how you shake it!" Maybe dressing as a showgirl had been a bad idea, in the first place. Of course it was going to attract attention. And, if she was trying to sneak around, she was doing all the wrong things.

'Then again, the train of thought would be that a showgirl couldn't possibly be a rogue Jedi sneaking around Cloud City, trying to reconnoiter the security and Imperial occupation of the planet.' She thought, 'And the entertainment industry people are always the first ones to hear secrets.'

It had gotten her into the Colony's inner hub, where plenty of different people and the more entertaining and tourist-based businesses had allowed her to hide in plain sight. The problem now would be actually hacking into a computer outlet and looking through any information on their Imperial guests.

What Mehgan wouldn't have given for an R2 unit or the likes of one at that moment.

She did manage to get into one of the clubs that littered the floor – it was tasteful, at the very least, and she would give the City credit that, for being well known throughout the Outer Rim for the casinos and hotels, very few of them were seedy or gaudy and most did seem at least like they were trying to appeal to both sexes and various species. This one was no different, lights softly illuminating the walls as though from flickering flames and the music played quietly, almost like a lullaby. Were it not for the presence of the stage with mostly nude women dancing for tips, one would have almost thought it a club for romantic couples on first nights out.

Mehgan slipped into the employee's lounge, pulling off the feathers and jewels and rummaging through the other dancers' casual clothing. She'd return it... later. Besides, it was really only a pair of pants she was borrowing – her own tunic shirts were the only thing that fit her, anyway.

"Gwen, I'm inside a club – do you have any records of where the nearest computer terminal would be?" She asked, pulling out the comlink she'd hidden in the folds of the costume. From the other end, Gwen's voice crackled. Mehgan wrapped her hair up in a turban and hid the comlink inside the folds.

"Which level are you on? There's a terminal on every floor, but there's one on level eight in a corridor with low traffic flow." Mehgan slipped out of the door and through the back exit. It put her out into a corridor that was bumping with traffic.

"How? I'm on level seven and the place is crawling." She slid into traffic and followed the stream. If she'd been followed, she wanted to throw them off as quickly as possible.

"Seven?" Gwen asked. Mehgan adjusted her headwrap. She had a tingling sensation at the bottom of her spine that said something was going to go wrong. It seemed the most likely scenario that someone had noticed that she had a comlink hidden in her turban, and that would be the most dead giveaway she could think of.

Either that, or the mesh cloth of the brasserie was coming loose under her shirt.

"Which club?" Gwen asked. Mehgan looked back over her shoulder, but didn't see a sign indicating anything about it, "Or, let me ask you, which one of how many?"

That was more readily answered, as Mehgan could see several other chambers that were clearly clubs or bars of some sort, and this was the only one without a door big enough for a Hutt to worm through.

"...That's not right." Gwen muttered. Already, Mehgan could see what was going to go wrong. Kaoln had never been one to run anything less than a tight ship, and Gwen had assured her that everything was up-to-date and as top of the line as you could get on a smuggler's vessel.

"How bad?" She asked. Gwen sissed on the other end, this time with some sincere anger.

"The lazt time These Ones dropped by, all of the seventh and eighth levels were spas – no separate chambers and very few corridors – maybe a restaurant or two for the guests and employees."

Mehgan kept going forward. Too many of the other people going through this passage were turning their heads to notice that she was talking, seemingly, to herself.

"I'm going to move down into the administrative levels – if I can't find someplace to talk, uninterrupted, there, I'll use the word 'Sabacc', got it?"

Gwen made a noise as though she didn't quite get it. Mehgan could almost hear her thinking 'Well, why bother when we've been talking pretty frankly this whole time?' But, on the other hand, there were plenty of people talking over her and making enough noise to mask anything she was saying, now. On the quiet levels in the offices, things would echo and bounce, and if there was anyone on her tail, they'd know immediately what she was up to. Mehgan swung into the repulsorlift and pressed the button to go down.

"Master Retaw?" Mehgan almost jumped. She hadn't noticed anyone else in the repulsorlift when she got in – how did they just appear behind her, all of a sudden?

She turned.

And stopped.

And stared.

Standing there, hair cropped just over her ears and a boy's tunic hanging down over her hands and knees, was a girl. Barely even twelve years old, and as rumpled as a baby's slept-in bed. With bright gray eyes that gleamed in the light, boring their gaze straight into hers.

"...Kendalina?"

* * *

"Where has that little bitch gone wandering off to?" Isard hissed under her breath. Here she was, stranded on a level that she didn't recognize with no map, and the braindead child had gone running off, leaving her completely lost.

It was a singularly foolish way to be lost in Cloud City.

Isard HATED being made a fool of.

Her comlink buzzed.

"Isard." She snapped, swearing if it was another one of her officers with any bad news – so much as a misplaced sock on any of the ships – she was going to have their head on her wall.

"Madam Director, I have information on the Committee of Grand Moff's purpose in Cloud City." It was Agent Clouseu's voice. And, unlike informing her commander of the lack of data to be sliced from the computers, she sounded genuinely excited.

Isard stopped to listen to this news with new earnest.

"Continue, Agent Clouseu." There was no need to tell her to keep in code – Isard knew any of her agents could tell, just from how she answered their comm transmissions if there was need for it. It was a note of personal pride that she held, with all of her soldier's and agents being able to tell from just a word how and what code to use in their conversations.

No other sect of the Empire was that well organized.

"At approximately two-hundred seventy-five hours, yesterday, the orbiting destroyer around Duro received a transmission from Cloud City informing them that a Jedi refugee and the former warlord of Kessel were both within the City. According to the transmission, the Jedi is traveling with a Barabel smuggler, and the Kessel warlord is being held as a captive somewhere in the jurisdiction of the mining colony. Myself and the other agents believe the Moffs and their forces have arrived to either eradicate the Jedi, rescue their pawn, or do both."

Both. Isard could tell that just from the size of the armada they'd brought – specifically, all of the forces they had loyal to them. The warlord from Kessel had been both a fearsome face to put on the head of their campaign to take over the rule, as well as sufficiently well-funded, so the Committee of Grand Moffs wasn't about to let him go so easily. On the other hand, they were too cowardly to go up against a Jedi with anything less than the most overwhelming odds. If was just a rescue and recovery of their pawn, they would have sent a strike team with appropriate guards and poised governors to negotiate, but simply destroying the Jedi, they would have just blown up the City and have been done with it. The Moffs had always been stupid and shortsighted like that.

Thus, the fact that they'd brought along every available and loyal cruiser for this meant they were trying to impress the Hutt running the City into releasing his prisoner, and at the same time, have the appropriate firepower to eliminate a rogue Jedi.

"And the floorplans?" She asked. As impressed as she was with Clouseu's discovery, it didn't do her any good when she had no clue where she was going.

"Still unable to find any useable files on schematics and floor plans." Clouseu reported, quickly amending, "But I do have access to their security systems and holos. I can probably manage to piece together a map with the right programs and enough time."

Now THAT was the Agent she knew. When her agents were able to show such ingenuity in these situations, it actually made Isard wish more obstacles would crop up on field missions.

"I need the administrative levels in one hour." Isard commanded. If Clouseu couldn't manage that... Well, it wasn't like she was the only computer intelligence expert in the network.

"One more thing, Madam Director." Clouseu's voice called through the comlink before Isard could switch it off. She paused, momentarily, "Agent Farwell hasn't reported in, yet."

Isard thought that one over – Farwell had been one agent she hadn't quite gotten a handle for his skills, yet. If he'd flubbed this one up, she had been planning to have him shot. She wanted very much to give the order for him to return to base and await his execution, except her instincts told her that it wasn't simply a matter of a new agent being incompetent or performing poorly. There were far too many things that were straight up wrong with this mission.

"Dispatch Lieutenant Grasper to find him – I want a full report on what she finds." As Clouseu saluted, Isard switched her comlink off, muttering to the dead silence what she would never admit in front of her troops, especially as she turned the corner and found herself looking up at a carbonite block with the frozen face of the Moff's little pet, "I have a bad feeling about this."

* * *

If it hadn't been one thing, it was another. The whole Committee of Grand Moffs had risen to the occasion to bargain with Zorba on this instance. After Bertroff Hissa had disappeared on the mission he'd been assigned from the Prophets, none of them wanted to be the next head of this coup.

Besides, none of them would have had the gall to face the notorious Hutt on their own. There was a very quiet strength in all of them coming at once, it seemed to them.

That was what had lead to all seven of the Central Committee of Grand Moffs to coming out in full regalia and prestige. Out of the dubious graciousness as a host, Zorba had allowed them all into a private conference room, but he had not thought to put any chairs or a presentation table in the room. It was as though he expected it to be over with in a matter of minutes, not a full out discussion and negotiation.

"So, with all due respect, Baron Administrator, we see no reason to continue holding Lord Trioculous prisoner. If he hasn't spent time to satisfy you, surely we can come to an agreement that will..." Their spokesman handed over a case to the bodyguard standing alongside Zorba, as the old Hutt had deemed the meeting not even worthy of him speaking with his guests, directly, "...Appropriately compensate you."

The bodyguard opened the case and examined the contents. None of them were worried about what he might find – they'd gone to great pains to gather a full two million credits. If Zorba or his guards were expecting to be cheated or tricked, the Committee wasn't about to give them any reason to be suspicious or angry. Besides, Trioculous had been worth at least five times that much in his beneficiary annuities, alone.

Zorba started to laugh. It was so eeriely similar to the late Jabba's infamous chortling – and the fact that it came just as he'd been handed a case full of credit chips – that it made all of their hair stand on end.

"With the same due respect..." The bodyguard answered, closing the case, "What reason do any of us have to believe that no retaliatory action will be taken against the colony for our decision to hold the prisoner in question in captivity for as long as we have?"

Every hair on each of the Committee's heads raised, either with temper or with nerves.

"That's a rather bald statement to make." One of them finally observed.

If the bodyguard was intimidated, he showed no sign of it, simply passing the closed case back towards them.

"We're all sorry if it offends you, but Cloud City has an unfortunate history with it's dealings with the Empire. As much as none of us want any bad blood, we do have the safety and welfare of our citizens to be aware of and protect. The presence of a captive such as the one in question has been, indisputably, an effective safeguard against any reprisal from the Empire for any perceived grievances."

All of this was said with a polite smile, in an equally polite tone, and an overall manner that was so pleasant, nobody would have guessed the underlying animosity seeping out of every pore of the Committee of Grand Moffs and into the room at these words.

"What sort of safeguard would you like?" One of them finally asked. Zorba lifted his fleshy hand and pointed straight at the speaker.

:''A hostage.'':

"And exactly how would I bargain for MY release, if it came to that?" Demanded the speaker Zorba had pointed to. The old Hutt's wrinkled face seemed to sag away as he smiled at the question.

Without hearing Zorba's response, all of them knew the answer was along the lines of 'That's YOUR problem, not mine.'

"Suppose we could make a trade – you allow Lord Trioculous's release, and we capture and deliver to you a Jedi refugee whom is hiding in Cloud City at this exact moment." Another member of the Committee offered. Zorba started chuckling, again.

"Yes, we know all about the Committee of Grand Moffs and bargaining." The bodyguard's tone turned sarcastic, just before it changed to the same formal, polite, pleasant tone as before, "Besides, why should we be interested in a Jedi – they're of no concern to our colony, anymore than any other pilot or guest, unless they pose a threat to our security."

It was enough to make all of them want to tear their hair out.

"Chief." Every head in the conference room turned to see a lower ranking security guard saluting the bodyguard at Zorba's side.

"Is this urgent?" He asked, not sounding in the least like he cared if it was urgent or not – it was perfectly plain that none of the Cloud City party considered the Committee serious enough to avoid offending them.

"Fairly, sir – we've had a breach in our computer security."

This got the attention of the bodyguard, as well as Zorba.

"Continue, Gray."

The entirety of the Committee of Grand Moffs groaned and waited for the conversation to be over.

"We received a tip off that a woman has been sneaking around the mines and administrative offices without a pass. She's of middle age, Human, with dark hair and mismatched eyes. The tip off reported that she was spotted at a computer terminal, attempting to slice into our schematic databanks."

It took every ounce of military control that the Committee possessed to not glance around at each other at the mention of mismatched eyes. If the Director of Intelligence knew they were here, all of them had no doubt that they would lose the military force they'd brought with them, and that would be the LEAST of their problems, especially if she knew exactly which ones among them were heading this movement, or what they were here for.

"Is she in custody, Gray?"

"Negative, sir – when we reached the terminal in question, there was no sign of anyone. With your permission, we'd like to have Lobot check the security holos."

"Permission granted. What about the tip?"

"It was anonymous, sir." Zorba had, for all intents and purposes, dropped out of the conversation – in fact, much to the Committee's discomfort, he was watching them all with a peculiar expression, as though their discomfort amused him. In his stead, the bodyguard at his side was taking complete charge of the discussion with the security.

"Is there anything else about this breach that we should relay to the rest of our security?"

The security guard nervously shifted his weight, casting the Committee a glance, as though he wondered if he should be speaking so frankly before them.

"The tip did give an additional piece of information." Again, the guard gave the Committee a look. The bodyguard – whom, it was becoming apparent, was also the Chief of Security – gestured for him to go on, "According to the tip, this woman is actually the Director of Intelligence of the Empire, one Ysanne Isard. She was overheard conversing with someone on the comlink about recovering the Baron Administrator's prisoner, one Trioculous of Kessandra."

Zorba started to chortle, again. And this time, it was enough to make all of the Committee go pale and feel ready to drop their bowels. The security present in the room turned to glare at all of them.

"No! She must be here on her own – we have nothing to do with this!" Their spokesman protested, holding his hands up in a panicked gesture as one of Zorba's guards pulled a blaster out into ready position.

Zorba's laughter started to grow louder. If they hadn't known any better, each of the Committee members would have thought he'd planned it like this.

"Baron Administrator?" The Chief asked, pulling his own, much larger and much more impressive blaster out and pointing it at the Committee.

:''Fire at will.'': Was all he said.

Every security guard in the room had a blaster out and aimed at them in the next second.

"SHIT!" One of the other Moffs had lost his head and immediately shot in panic. The lights went out in the room and the blasts began to ring out.

* * *

Why? Why was she here, and why now of all times? Mehgan didn't understand it.

"...What are you doing here?" Mehgan asked. Kendalina cocked her head in the most peculiar manner, as though Mehgan's question was a curiosity, in and of itself.

"You're not happy to see me?" She asked, blinking innocently. Mehgan had to sit down.

"No – I'm THRILLED! I've wanted to see you so much... It's just..." She reached out and grabbed Kendalina's arm, then forced herself to relinquish it. Kendalina continued to blink and stare at her. Mehgan shook her head, thoughts compounding on each other by themselves.

Why Cloud City? That was her biggest question – Kendalina had never been to Bespin, as far as Mehgan knew. What was it that not once, but TWICE now, that Mehgan saw Kendalina in Cloud City? And why at this age? Why when she was twelve years old, again?

"Master Retaw, are you okay?" Kendalina asked, reaching up and putting her stubby hand on Mehgan's face. Mehgan had to clasp her fingers around Kendalina's hand, just to check that it was real. That was another oddity – was this Kendalina a ghost? A projection through the Force? Or was Mehgan just going insane? Or was it another illusion being conjured up by Dalhouise, hidden somewhere nearby?

Mehgan looked up, around the room, expecting Kendalina's twisted older brother to just melt out of the walls.

"...Dalhouise..." She mumbled. Kendalina cocked her head to the side, again.

"He's not here. He's long gone – I made him go away. I didn't want him showing up and hurting you, again." She replied. Her voice was flat. It was like Mehgan wasn't hearing her, correctly, or as though Kendalina herself didn't know what the right way to feel as she said those words, and was forcing herself to be perfectly bland for Mehgan's benefit.

"...Why are you here?" Mehgan asked. Kendalina continued to stare, unblinking. It was the same confused look Mehgan was so familiar with from before coming to the Temple, when Kendalina had still been very small and unable to care for herself. It was so foreign to see it on her face. On the other hand... she hadn't seen Kendalina much during that time – she'd been trying to survive on her own, and during those same years, Kendalina had been doing the exact same thing.

It made Mehgan feel sick to think that she didn't know nearly as much about Kendalina as she wished she did. Maybe this really wasn't a projection in the Force – Mehgan was sure that Kendalina had changed as she got older when she'd been alive. So this could only be Mehgan imagining things, not a ghost or a projection, and the only way she was seeing this was her remembering.

"I just wanted to see you. That's all." Kendalina answered, finally. Her bright gray eyes were gleaming, like she was ready to cry with anxiety, "Did you not want to see me? Am I doing something bad, being here? I didn't MEAN to!" Her voice raised in pitch, like Kendalina always did when she started to get upset. Like in all those moments when her parents or uncles had been ready to hurt her, and Kendalina had been too terrified to ask for Mehgan to protect her.

It was an old instinct that Mehgan pitched her arms up and wrapped them around Kendalina's shoulders.

"No, no. It's not bad, it's... you're not... I wanted to see you, I can't tell you how badly I wanted to see you these last twelve years. You have no idea, I missed you so much..." Maybe she was crying, Mehgan didn't know – she could almost hear the Master's scolding her, the way they always had because she was just too emotional, just didn't have enough control, just always was too attached to her little apprentice, just too...

"Your hair's longer, Master Retaw." Kendalina mumbled into her ear. Mehgan felt one of Kendalina's hands brush the section of bangs that hung down the side of her face, tugging on it, "I don't remember seeing it this long, ever. Can I play with it, a little?"

Mehgan pried her arms off of Kendalina's shoulders, once she could be sure she was composed. She had to reach up and put Kendalina's hand down, away from her own face. Kendalina had never wanted to play with her hair before... but, on the other hand, Mehgan was already fairly sure she was imagining this. Couldn't this be another quirk in her mind?

"'May I', Kendalina. 'May I play with it.'" It was so wonderful to be correcting her again. Kendalina's face drooped, then popped up again with lightning reflexes, just the way Mehgan remembered her always doing.

"May I play with it, a little?"

Mehgan nodded. Kendalina gleefully perched herself behind Mehgan on the seat and undid the hair tie, running her fingers through Mehgan's hair and tugging on the strands like they were strings on a puppet or wires suspending a beam from the ceiling.

Mehgan let her mind wander. She wouldn't be able to deny that she missed this – missed those quiet moments, when she'd just been herself and Kendalina hadn't cared about what the Council thought, and they were almost like mother and daughter, no matter who disapproved, or if it was too... too...

Too not Jedi-like. From the egg she'd shared as a secret with Depa, to how she'd melted down over the Knight and Apprentice pair who hadn't realized it was her own little girl. And from the moment she'd seen that little girl in her cradle, how Mehgan had just taken her in, how Kendalina had become the single creature in the galaxy she would have done anything for, anything to protect, to save, to make her happy...

"Master Retaw, I saw a lot of men in white armor going by. They all seemed to be looking for something." Kendalina mentioned, pawing Mehgan's hair like a small child plays with a doll.

"I know. They're looking for me." She answered. Kendalina made a curious noise – one that Mehgan remembered her making the first time she'd experienced sunlight, "They're called the Empire. They're the stormtroopers... they're trying to find me because I'm a Jedi."

"So, they're the bad guys?" Kendalina asked, still pulling, "If they try to hunt people for being Jedi, and Jedi are the guardians of peace and justice, then anyone who hunts the Jedi down must be evil, right?" Her voice seemed even younger than Mehgan remembered. It almost frightened her to think that she was losing her memories of Kendalina to the point that she didn't even clearly remember what her voice sounded like.

"That's right... they're the bad guys."

Kendalina paused in stroking Mehgan's hair. She put her arms around Mehgan's shoulders – almost high enough that, if she'd squeezed tighter, they would have been around Mehgan's neck.

"Did they do a lot of bad things?"

It pained Mehgan to hear Kendalina ask that. It made the spot between her ribs that had throbbed the last time she'd seen Kendalina alive suddenly flare up, like a scab that had suddenly been pulled off and had salt swabbed at it.

"Yes. They've done a lot of bad things."

Kendalina's arms tightened, but only a little, before she pulled back and rested her hands on Mehgan's shoulders.

"Did they do bad things to you?"

Mehgan had to breathe slowly to think clearly. There was plenty that she'd had to do to hide and run from the Empire... but she'd never really had any confrontations. She knew that there had been many others who'd suffered much worse. Mehgan... well, she still had all her limbs, had never gotten any diseases, never had a family or village or friends tortured and executed or homes burned down... and she'd never been raped. That was something that she knew almost every woman had lived with on an Empire occupied planet.

It was something that she hadn't been able to save Kendalina from.

"They did... to you, and to Triclops... to the whole Order. They killed almost all of the Council... killed off the entire Order... Triclops, they... the both of you were..." Mehgan stammered, unable to even get all of the syllables in order to describe the horrible things that had happened to Kendalina, or Triclops for that matter. Kendalina had gone back to playing with Mehgan's hair.

"Oh, I don't care." Kendalina groused, "I can deal with it – I've gotta be. I've got to be strong for you and Triclops, right?" Suddenly, Kendalina's hands tightened in Mehgan's hair, "But if anyone did anything bad to you, I'll kill them!"

Mehgan had to reach behind and grab Kendalina's wrists.

"No, Kendalina." She scolded, still remembering Kendalina's earnest loyalty and propensity to temper fits with fondness, in spite of herself, "That's not the Jedi way – we do not kill, unless we must in self-defense. You know that."

Mehgan looked back over her shoulder. Kendalina was giving her another long, blank stare, as though she were blind – then again, Mehgan knew that expression, given that Kendalina had been born blind.

"Master Retaw, what does justice mean, anyway?" She finally asked, "I always heard you and other Masters talk about the Jedi serving justice and peace, but how am I supposed to serve everything like a Jedi unless I understand?"

Mehgan blinked right back. It seemed so strange for Kendalina to ask... but on the other hand, she was so dizzy with everything else. She still didn't even understand how she was sitting here, looking her little girl in the face, able to touch and hear her like she was still alive and on the seat next to her.

"...Well... the simplest way to say it is that it's fair and just behavior... like with a justice system... when someone is brought into court and they try him and decide if he's innocent or guilty..."

"So, if someone is innocent, they're one of the good guys and if they're guilty, they're one of the bad guys, right?" And when Mehgan nodded, Kendalina smiled, pleased that she'd been so smart and understood it so well, "And when you know that someone is a bad guy, you have to do something to be sure the good guys win in the end, right? And after all, the bad guys can't be counted on to stop other bad guys and make sure that they don't do bad things to any of the other good guys, right? So, the good guys have to do that, or else the bad guys win and get away with all the bad things they've done, right?"

Maybe it was the complete dizziness of it all, or maybe it was because Mehgan really was losing her mind, but this didn't seem wrong at all, to just go back to the simple idea of good against evil. To be allowed to think back to when Kendalina had been still so young that everything was solved by saying the bad guys did bad things and were punished for them, while the good guys did good things and always won in the end, it was refreshingly easy, so much that she was happy to do it, again.

"Master Retaw, I'm not one of the bad guys, am I?" Kendalina startlingly implored, jumping off of the seat and leaning in close to Mehgan, "Sometimes, I see one of the bad guys do something horrible and I have to do SOMEthing to stop them... What'll I do if another one of the good guys catches me doing it and thinks I'M one of the bad guys? Am I doing anything wrong that way?" Her bright gray eyes started getting brighter, shining with tears that Kendalina only shed when something was really, truly wrong, and when there was nothing in the galaxy that scared her or hurt her more than whatever it was at that moment.

"No!" Mehgan grabbed Kendalina's arm, and pulled her into a hug. Kendalina accepted it all too willingly, burying her nose against Mehgan's chest, "...It's not always easy to do the right thing... sometimes, even the Jedi have to do things that are... that can seem like the wrong thing to do, at the time... we all do... we all have to make choices that we wish we didn't have to make, or that seem like the sort of thing the bad guys would do... the whole point is that we do them for the right reasons..."

From her own experience, Mehgan knew that she had done a few things that the Jedi would have deemed wrong – had to shoot down sentinels to stop their pursuit, had to fight with a guest in the Temple, one whom Triclops ended up killing because he'd been so utterly vile, and she'd had to fight and kill soldiers of the Empire to stay alive and to protect Kendal... And Mehgan had no doubt in her mind that Kendalina and Triclops had both taken their number of lives to protect themselves and each other and their own little boy.

"...So, sometimes good people have to do bad things... because it's the only thing that'll make things right again?" Kendalina asked, slowly. Mehgan nodded, choking down her tears at the image her brain refused to shut out – the sensation that had ripped through her in the Force, the day she felt Kendalina die, the knowledge that her own brother had done it, and that she hadn't been able to stop it, and that it had been a purely cold-blooded killing, but meticulously recorded, as though Kendalina had deserved it, somehow, like any other execution.

"That's right – good guys... good guys have to make things right again." She mumbled, squeezing Kendalina even tighter. Kendalina squeezed back, just as tightly.

"Master Retaw, you always make things right, don't you?" Mehgan's grip slackened, "I know you do – you're the greatest of all the good guys, just like you were a great mother. You were the best in the whole galaxy. There's no way you couldn't make everything all better again, right?"

It took her a moment to rest her forehead against Kendalina's shoulder and compose herself before Mehgan could answer without her voice cracking.

"That's right... I'll make everything better, again," It almost felt like she were mumbling to herself, rather than Kendalina. Then again, she'd accepted that she probably was, "I won't let the bad guys win – I'll make things right."

"Promise?" Kendalina crooned, like an infant cooing as her mother rocked her to sleep.

"I promise."

Kendalina pressed her face into Mehgan's chest, again, snuggling against her with the same comfort and affection as she'd always had when she was still very small.

"I have to go, Master Retaw." She finally mumbled. Mehgan nodded, not saying a word. Her thoughts were still spinning, but there was something about this spinning and these thoughts that seemed to work, that seemed to actually do something other than make her dizzy with painful nostalgia and memories. Kendalina pulled herself out of Mehgan's arms and skipped out of the repulsorlift's doors. Mehgan could hear her shoes making a distinct, almost musical noise as they tapped on the floor.

Mehgan sank back onto the seat, suddenly realizing that Kendalina's voice had been missing its old Correllian accent. Or, more terrifying, that Mehgan had forgotten what Kendalina's Correllian accent had sounded like.

* * *

"Clouseu, this better be important." Isard hissed into the comlink as she waited for the carbonite to thaw. It hadn't been her intention to attempt bringing back this useless slob, but, since the opportunity had presented itself, she'd been struck with the wonderful inspiration to bring Trioculous back to the Lusankya, pump him for information on the other factions attempting to seize control of the Empire, and then send him back to the Grand Moffs as a sleeper agent. It would elegantly solve her problems with the Central Committee of Grand Moffs.

"Madam Director, with all due respect, myself and the other agents believe you should retreat." Isard would have smirked at the idea of Clouseu trying to order her about, except she was both too angry at the idea and too irritated at the number of other things that had gone wrong.

"I found my way into the security holos and there's a conference being held between the Committee of Grand Moffs and the Administration of Cloud City – someone gave the security a tip off that you're here."

Now THIS was a good reason to retreat. As much as it smarted her pride, Isard knew she wouldn't be able to follow her plan through.

Oh well – Trioculous was guaranteed to be killed, at least. Isard covered her nose to block the smell of melting carbonite.

"Is there anything else?" She demanded, irritably.

"Lieutenant Grasper also reported back. She might have found Agent Farwell's remains."

Isard blinked at her comlink.

"...Might have found his remains?"

"She did a sweep of the levels he had been sent to scout, and as she was following the course charted to him, she saw one of his boots on the roof of a nearby building from a balcony. The only two ways it got there, she concluded, were if Agent Farwell had THROWN his boot, or if he'd fallen from the balcony and it came flying off."

Neither of these seemed entirely likely – as low as her opinion was of Farwell, Isard did know that he wasn't THAT incompetent. None of her soldiers were.

"Which balcony did she find this from?" Isard asked. If she could pass it on her way back to the ship, she might see something missing from Grasper's report. Clouseu coughed.

"Level eight."

The same level Isard had bumped into, and lost, her guide. And something had been very wrong with that girl, Isard knew.

And, thinking about it, Isard could have sworn something else had happened on that floor.

"Clouseu, order Grasper back to the ship. I want you to get records on the citizens of Cloud City from their databanks." Isard commanded, increasing her pace to double time.

"...Citizen records?" Clouseu asked.

"Specifically, filter for young female Humans, aged between ten and thirteen years old, between one-hundred thirty and one-hundred fifty centimeters, dark hair and gray eyes." From Clouseu's end, Isard didn't hear any sounds as though Clouseu was hopping to instructions, "Do it!"

Isard started to pelt her way down the corridor, not looking back as her project finished and Trioculous tumbled out of the block and onto the floor.

* * *

"Well, I don't think THAT could have gone any worse." Huffed Grand Moff Thistleborn as the whole Committee piled out of the corridor and back into the airlock of their ship. None of the Cloud City security had managed a successful shot at any of them. It was almost enough to make their own stormtroopers look like competent shots, "We'll be lucky to make it out of this mess alive, let alone accomplish what we came here to do."

One of the heftier Moffs grunted as he pounded on the 'Open door' button.

"We'll be fine. Now that Director Isard was here, we've got something on her. Besides, she's got enemies in the Empire – we can make a deal with a few other warlords to take her down."

"None of them are anywhere near as well-off as HE was."

"Worry about finances later – at this point, saving our own skins should be the first thing."

The Moff at the keypad finally punched the code in correctly and the doors slid open. None of the Moffs pushed through.

Standing there was a young woman, easily head and shoulders over all of them and powerfully built. Even if she was wearing simple, civilian clothes, and glittering, showgirl heels, it was also painfully obvious that she'd come looking for a fight.

"Who the hell are you?" Demanded the Moff nearest the door, whipping out a blaster and gesturing at her.

The woman's arm shot out and grabbed him by the throat. Out of shock, the Moff dropped his blaster and put his hands up around the woman's arm. It was no good – in one, fluid movement, she lifted him, bodily, from the floor and threw him through a window. All the others heard him screaming as he plummeted through the clouds below.

The woman turned back to them. Between the strands of her bangs, they could see her eyes glowing red and yellow, as though something poisonous had seeped into her and was showing through.

None of them even had a chance to defend themselves.

* * *

Isard arrived back at her ship in a matter of minutes. Both Lieutenant Grasper and Agent Clouseu were there, poring over holoprojections of the Cloud City's civilian records. Just as she'd ordered, the records only showed young girls, but none of the records Isard saw at a glance had the features she'd specified.

"With all due respect, Madam Director, none of the civilians in Cloud City fit those features – all the Human residents are more of this composition." Clouseu gestured to the screen, which prominently displayed Human faces with dark skin, hair, and eyes. That answered Isard's question for her – whoever that girl had been, she hadn't been a resident of the City, like she let on. Which meant that she'd had a reason to want to lead Isard around and...

Isard gave the moment she'd met the girl on the eighth level a little more thought – as she'd stepped to the side to contact Clouseu... the girl had disappeared, then Isard had found her leaning against a balcony. And...

It had to do with her. Isard just knew it. She didn't know how and she didn't know why, and that irritated her, but it made her absolutely certain that Farwell was certainly dead.

"Clouseu." Isard commanded, sharply. Clouseu stood to attention as Isard held out her hand, "Your blaster." Clouseu turned it over, immediately.

"Grasper." Grasper came around to Isard's other side. Isard wordlessly handed her the blaster, "Fire."

Clouseu gaped at Isard as Grasper shakily did as she was told. Still irritable, Isard turned her back as Clouseu's body hit the floor, and stalked back towards the cockpit.

* * *

Gwen jumped out of her chair as the door slid shut, again. Master Retaw was leaning heavily on the wall, her hair unraveled, her shoes gone, and spots of dark brown on her clothes that smelled like iron.

"Mazter Retaw? What's...?" Gwen started, but Master Retaw shrugged her off, wearily treading towards one of the cabins.

"We can leave, now – the Moffs won't be a problem anymore." She mumbled. Gwen wanted to point out that they'd arrived to destroy Zorba and Tibor, but Master Retaw shut the door to the cabin.

And then, from the other side, Gwen could hear something that sounded distinctly like crying.

"Guess This One will have to fly the ship, herzelf."

* * *

Luke had to swallow, hard, before he could collect himself to look back at Ken.

"What makes you say that?" He asked, calmly. Ken frowned at the ground for a long moment.

"Well, mostly because of what he always ends up talking about, and how – whenever we talk about politics or what his life was like in the prison, he usually comes back around to this Miss Kendalina. She must have been..." Ken paused. Luke raised his eyebrows, before Ken continued, in a voice that was much surer than when he'd paused, "She meant a lot to him."

"I see." Luke agreed. He'd heard Triclops talking about the mystery woman, too. But he hadn't heard any mention of how close they'd been. He waited for Ken to continue.

"He told me, once, that the Empire destroyed her because she was a Jedi... but whenever he talks about her, instead of complete and total despair, there's always a note of optimism to his voice – not much, but it's there. Usually, people who lose a loved one also lose hope. However, the ability to keep optimism is generally associated with hope for the future, which is usually connected with children. And, because of gender politics, it's more likely a son for him to be so attached to. But, since he never mentions anything about it, and since he does have a general attitude of at least fatalism, my guess is that he's never even seen his kid."

Luke felt himself blink, dumbly, at Ken for a few moments before it registered in his brain that this meant Ken hadn't been told that HE was this supposed son, and, more importantly, he hadn't figured it out on his own. That, on its own, was an immense relief.

Then, he realized that Ken had still figured out a number of other ideas, based on a set of logic that Luke hadn't realized Ken had at his disposal.

"...How do you know all of THAT?"

Ken shrugged, rather bravely for a twelve-year-old.

"It's just psychology and inductive reasoning."

"That's hardly something to say 'Just' about." Luke pointed out, frowning, "Where did you pick it up, from? You've never mentioned anything about knowing any psychology before."

Ken's cheeks flushed and he started to scowl. That made Luke uneasy, all over again.

_"How can you be so sure that this boy is really as sweet and innocent as he acts, that it's not a front, or that as soon as you begin training him, he'll start to change?"_

No, he wasn't being paranoid – he was being cautious. And, in any case, if Ken was learning things from a less than credible source, Luke had to be sure he learned the real facts from misinformation.

"Ken?" The boy wasn't looking Luke in the eye anymore. It could have been the behavior of someone trying to fool everyone and knowing they were about to get caught...

Or it could have just been a petulant pre-teen sulking about being talked down to. Given his more recent experience of being the latter, Luke was going to trust that.

"How am I supposed to help you with your theory if you don't let me?" Luke pushed. Ken glanced back up, before looking away.

"I read about it in medical docs." Luke nodded, pressing him to go on, "After we went to the medcenter and Medic Dank started talking about how I probably don't have a strong immune system, I thought I should know more about it and started reading about the Human body and systems..." Ken fell silent.

"..And how did this get you to reading psychology docs?" Luke asked. Ken continued to stare at the floor.

"...Because... they were more... interesting." He mumbled, his voice getting quieter with each word. Luke could have laughed, the answer was so ironic, and so very like Ken.

It also got him thinking a little more.

"Ken... I think I have an idea." And if Luke was right, he'd have Ken's training set on the right course.

* * *

Dalina leaned, boredly, on the railing as she observed the figure on the platform below. He was crawling, barely even able to pull his own weight, dragging himself along the ground towards the ship. It was a single-pilot fighter, but inside, it would have at least a chair and some medical supplies.

For someone who'd just been thawed out of carbonite, they'd need it.

Dalina had a blaster at the ready – she could have leveled it and shot him. And why shouldn't she? Everything was his fault, after all. And besides, she was starting to get bored, again. The Moffs were all dead, and the Isard lady was going to leave soon, anyway. Even if she did plan on killing off some more of her soldiers, it wasn't like Dalina would be able to enjoy it.

Ultimately, though, Dalina shrugged at let Trioculous drag himself into the ship. She'd need to let him live if she was going to have the fun of chasing him across the galaxy.

A/N: Wow. I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this out. But, like I said, there was a lot of stuff going on. I did, however, finally get the right inspiration to get me going.

If anyone can guess what classic horror film was the inspiration for this chapter, you get a prize. I don't think you will, though – it's an old one. And, on a side note, sorry about the high body count in this chapter, even if most of them were off screen.


	25. Part III: Chapter 5

PRINCE

By Sapadu

A/N: I'm putting in a big warning right now – all of the mostly family safe stuff, just short a 'Gee Wilakers, Luke!' to be truly campy and stupid, is now going out the window. Oh, there might be some things that SEEM silly... until you see someone lose a hand. From here on out, you'll be seeing such disturbing things as mass murder, suicide, rape, torture, mutilation, psychological warfare, war crimes, insanity, and some flashbacks that might offend any readers who happen to be Jewish. You have been warned.

(Now with 20% more Chewbacca and the droids!)

Chapter 5:

Luke had started letting Ken follow him around his tasks on Alliance base. From the trivial things like changing engine oil for the star fighters, to strategy meetings and reports on other missions, Luke kept Ken firmly at his side. If anyone had any qualms with it, Ken hadn't heard any of them, at least not to his face.

This was something that Ken wasn't sure if he was pleased or even more nervous. To compensate, he started asking even more questions than usual. It got to the point that Captain Solo had shoved a log book in Ken's direction one day and told him to just write down everything he had to say so at least everyone else could still hear themselves think. Ken had done so, but Luke's response was to read through the questions Ken had written down and make a lesson out of them, which always ended with Ken having at least a dozen questions more, a piece.

Luke had started doing this after Ken had shared his theory about Triclops' son. Luke had a theory of his own: That Ken wasn't nearly as brain dead as he'd let on – he simply suffered from a lack of information, experience, and concentration. To fix this, Luke had opened opportunities for Ken to learn more about the galaxy he was living in and garner more firsthand experience.

Ken was still unsure if it was working. He didn't feel like he was learning more or getting smarter. But Luke continued to insist that Ken come with him with anything he did, even up to minor missions and assignments.

"He still doesn't trust you."

The ape creature hadn't appeared in any of his nightmares again, but that might have been because Ken wasn't really sleeping well enough to have many dreams, in the first place. Instead, the creature had taken to appearing at the foot of the mattress Ken attempted to sleep on.

Ken stayed curled up and kept his hands over his ears, but the creature was never deterred and continued to sneer at him through the darkness.

"All of them know you're too weak. Too soft. Nobody wants to put any faith in a miserable little runt – put a heavy weight on a bridge of sticks, and see how quickly it crumbles." The creature was still gleefully hissing.

"Be quiet." Ken snapped. The creature just kept sneering – Ken was quite sure that even if he looked, he'd see the creature baring it's fangs at him.

"Oh, so sure you're alright on your own then? You know that he's started acting strange since the Three-Eyes showed up. Maybe he knows something you don't. Something he's keeping a secret from you."

This, Ken would not deny – even his own theory about Triclops having a child, somewhere, had been a mask for some things he'd noticed about the man, himself. The way Triclops acted around the other adults was far different from how he acted around Ken, and there was never any consistency to it, either – the first time he'd met Triclops, he'd been monotone and tactless, then during his second real interaction, Ken had seen a side that was vulnerable, lonely, and melancholy, and during subsequent talks for the benefit of the interrogation squad, Triclops would range from polite but distant, to asking so many personal questions that he almost seemed like a psychopath trying to break down a victim. Ken wanted to pass it off as Triclops simply being a moody person, except he was always short, polite, curt, and expressionless when it came to anyone else attempting to question him.

That, and the fact that Triclops had mentioned this Miss Kendalina being killed at least twelve years ago, because he'd also been in a coma for twelve years, and Ken was twelve years old, himself... It could have been a coincidence, but...

"So sure that you've got all the angles checked out? What if that child you think he has is-" Ken stuffed his fingers in his ears as hard as he could. It wasn't possible. After all, he was named 'Ken', right? After 'Kenobi' – it made SENSE that way. He COULDN'T be...

"He treats me differently because I am a kid. That is all – and he just spent his whole life in prison. He probably just does not know how to interact with other people."

The creature was silent for a moment.

"Then, why would Skywalker be so suspicious? Maybe he thinks you know something that he wants to know." Well, Ken did have a few things that he couldn't tell Luke, but beyond that, his honesty with Luke was more open than any other pair of people Ken had seen interact, so far. Which... admittedly, wasn't saying much, "And all these missions and how much he BELIEVES you – suspicious, that. Maybe he's just toying with you until he can shake you off."

"Then he would have done it already. He would have left me behind on a planet somewhere, or somehow sent me into battle so I could get blown up." Ken muttered this more into the mattress than to the creature.

"Maybe he's planning something himself and just needs a decoy. Maybe you're just being set up to be his scapegoat. His getaway."

"Luke would never do that – he is a better person than that."

"Then, why's he being so serious with you, now? Every time you talk to him about something, he's always staring at you, thinking, waiting for the next words to come out of your mouth. He's a calculating one, you know. Maybe he's thinking what the best way to bend you to his will would be."

"Shut up."

Ken wasn't going to think like this – Luke had said they would be going on a mission tomorrow, a routine sweep of nearby systems to see if there were any incoming Empire ships that. It wasn't terribly dangerous, but it was necessary, and both of them would need to be alert, and Luke had also said he wanted Ken to work on honing his Force sense while they were performing the sweep. Ken needed to be able to trust him.

And he would, no matter what the creature said.

* * *

Han was not in a terribly good mood – not for any reason in particular, but more because he was tired and, damn it, he wanted to sleep. Having Her Worship and Luke both on board in the Falcon's galley with particularly nasty bouts of insomnia was not conducive to getting sleep.

":Why not just tell them to go back to their own ships, cub?:" Han never thought he'd be listening to Chewbacca as the voice of reason, but here he was. At the very least, he wasn't as nearly annoying as Goldenrod.

At any rate, Han just shrugged it off.

"Luke, don't you got a mission tomorrow? It can't be good for you staying up all night with that, right?" Han managed to make it sound like a demand as he plunked down next to Luke, who was on his third mug of caf. Out of the corner of his eye, Han could see Leia shoot him a glance that clearly meant 'When did YOU become our mother?'

"It's just routine." Luke mumbled, running a hand over his face. Han pretended to not see it. Luke would get worried if he knew he was worrying his friend, and Leia would become concerned if Han started acting like he cared too much. Not that Han would admit he was worried about either of them – because he WASN'T.

"Routine sweeps are the best way to get yourself killed if you aren't careful." Han countered. Chewbacca made a snorting noise behind him, which Han ignored. If the fuzzball had something to say, he could say it and get it over with.

"Maybe, if you're piloting a hunk of scrap metal like this." Leia responded, rapping her knuckles on the wall of the galley. Han snorted, pretending to be offended.

"Hey, you're the one who decided to park it in my galley and help yourself to my time – if the Falcon ain't good enough for you, I ain't makin' you stay." He barked.

He didn't expect Leia to jolt up from the table and storm out, not even looking at him. Actually, he'd kind of expected her to stay and come up with some witty retort, just to spite him. As soon as she'd rounded the corner, he almost wanted to go after her and apologize, but was still too proud to admit he was worried.

Oh well – he wasn't in charge of her Royal High and Mightiness. It was her problem if she didn't want to stick around.

Which was exactly why, when Luke sighed, Han shot his friend a glare and rounded on him. Why not? Luke was still a kid, so... well, it was a real man's job to make a kid into a man, and damn it, he was gonna do his job well.

"What's going on with you two?" Han also wasn't an idiot. He might not have had no fancy weapons or diplomacy or sorcerer's powers, but he had noticed that Leia had been shooting Luke – and the kiddo, for that matter – a lot of dirty looks, lately. Han also got the distinct impression that both Luke and Leia were keeping something a secret from him.

Luke looked honestly surprised.

"Nothing." And if Han didn't know Luke so well, he might have bought that lie. As it was, Han knew when Luke was hiding something – either because he was bothered by it, or because he wanted to 'protect' everyone else – he ALWAYS said it was nothing.

"You're both not speaking to each other a hell of a lot for 'nothing.'" Luke also wasn't looking at Han. Any other member of the Alliance, Han would have understood, but he also knew that Luke was a person to make eye contact more than any other man Han had ever met. Maybe it was because he'd been a farm boy, or maybe it was leftover from his kid tendencies to want more eye contact to prove he was a real, grown, adult, but Han always knew that when Luke wouldn't look someone in the face and talk to them, it meant he was either hiding something, or bothered.

For that matter, Han couldn't remember seeing Luke and Leia make eye contact once in the last two weeks.

Luke shrugged.

"Guess we're just catching up on all the fights we missed when we were kids." The words were offered with a half-grin, which Han didn't buy for a minute. Luke and Leia didn't act like any siblings Han had ever met, and that included fights. Hell, Luke didn't even really fight with anyone – he just 'respectfully disagreed' with them, or some bull like that.

"Whatcha fight about?"

Again, Luke shrugged.

"Nothing."

And that was more bull – HAN fought with Leia about nothing. That's why he kinda (maybe, sorta, but he'd never admit it) liked fighting with her Royalness. And Leia never argued about nothing with anyone else... he hoped.

":The little princess seemed worried about something.:" Chewbacca observed, ":Maybe that has something to do with it, cub.:"

"Butt out, Chewie."

Luke remained quiet. Absently, Han wondered if it had anything to do with the kiddo, or if the reason Leia was so nervous was something to do with those hokey Jedi powers and it gave her a bad feeling about the mission they'd be on the next day. Come to think of it, Han had this feeling in his gut that something would go wrong tomorrow.

"Y'know, Luke." Han started, "I could take the sweep mission, tomorrow, if you're not feeling up to it."

Luke stared at him. Han was sure that Luke was trying to ponder what was going through Han's mind.

"I was going to use it to teach Ken how to hone his ability to sense things in the Force." Luke's protest sounded feeble. Maybe that was because he was obviously sleepy.

"I could do that." Or maybe he couldn't, but Han wasn't about to admit there was something he couldn't do, "Stang, I could pilot and he do the Jedi stuff. Hell, CHEWIE could pilot and the runt could still do his stuff."

Chewie barked, clearly liking the sound of that.

Luke yawned. Apparently the caf wasn't doing it's job.

"I'll be fine. Besides..." Luke trailed off, and Han once again got the idea that Luke was trying to keep something to himself. With another sigh, Luke picked himself up and staggered out of the Falcon's galley. Han let him, turning the ideas over in his head and trying to think of a real answer.

Oh well – he'd find out, eventually.

"Chewie." Han finally said. When Chewbacca growled in response, Han got out of his chair and started to haul towards the engine rooms, "I gotta bad feeling about this."

* * *

"_Ya know, since we're sleeping on a prison bed, you'd think you'd have a hard time sleeping." Viro mentioned, kicking the wall. Why Triclops bothered to create settings in his dreams was beyond him. Maybe it was a matter of comfort, to at least have some form or idea of something tangible in an intangible state._

"_I can sleep anywhere. You know that." Triclops responded, walking through the hall. He'd decided to make this dream into something as though out of an art gallery. It was easier to handle than his previous dreams that saw into the future – giving his dreams structure enabled him to, at the least, stop and watch what he was seeing and try to deduce something out of it._

"_What Prophecy of Doom is THIS?" Viro asked, pausing by one of the images. All that consisted of it was the rear view of an X-Wing, one of it's jets not lit up, as though broken or underfueled._

"_That's what we're going to find out." Triclops kept walking. As though obligating, the images moved as he did. The X-Wing was sweeping across the sky of a planet – somewhere in the atmosphere, but far too high to be reached by anything less than a real spaceship, but if it was stratosphere or mesosphere, Triclops wasn't sure. Below, the terrain was calm and green, but visible through layers of fog and cloud._

_Triclops walked closer towards the image he'd stopped before. The image drew in closer to the ship's cockpit. Inside, Triclops could see someone... a young man, but the features were difficult to discern with the pilot helmet and visor. He had to take a few more steps before he could see, just behind the pilot's seat, there was a second person inside the X-Wing, also in a flight suit and with a helmet over his head._

"_Do we have to do it like this?" Viro complained as Triclops stepped closer and closer, trying to make out some features of the X-Wing's passengers._

"_It's either this, or we go back to seeing these visions as symbols and metaphors with no control of how quickly they pass and we see them."_

"_Try looking from this angle – I think that's the Skywalker brat under the helmet." Viro advised, tone changing with comedic speed._

_Triclops took a step to the right, and saw the image change in angle just enough to see that, sure enough, it was Skywalker in the pilot's seat. So, logically, that meant it was Kendal in the spot behind the pilot chair._

"_Wait, so you're just not gonna move on after that?" Viro demanded, as Triclops remained rooted to his spot. Triclops shot him a dirty look, "What? What's gonna happen is gonna happen – might as well know about it, right?"_

_Triclops sighed, hung his head, and started to walk on to the next image. They moved along with him, progressing as time inevitably would. The X-Wing continued to fly, as though steered by something larger than a mere human in the controlling seat. The movement wasn't smooth – actually, it seemed a little off. Triclops paused again, examining the clouds. They weren't pure white, but some a smoky gray, and others with patches of black._

"_So... Skywalker and the kid are gonna be flying around in an X-Wing, doing SOMEthing, and the weather is going to be making the flying conditions a little tough for them..."_

"_And there's something wrong with one of the engines – either it's damaged somehow or they're flying on low fuel or some kind of interference between the engine and the rest of the ship..."_

"_They are an army – maybe they've got a ration on fuel for now, for some reason." For all his complaining and smart ass remarks, Viro was helping with some remarkable insight, "Either way, things are already a little shaky..."_

_So, whatever was about to happen, there would be that many factors already working against them._

_Triclops kept walking. The image continued to move. From over the ship, there was something in the atmosphere. It would probably be obscured from normal vision by the cloud cover, but any decent X-Wing would have equipment to pick up another ship. But, as Triclops kept the scene progressing, whatever it was continued to drop towards the X-Wing, like a tiny bird of prey diving at some incredible speed to snatch another bird out of the sky._

"_Wait, Boy – stop!" Viro grabbed Triclops' elbow and started closer towards the image. Triclops saw the scope on the attacking vessel zoom in._

_It wasn't a ship. It wasn't even a droid. It was a person – round and in an enviro suit, enough to enable him to withstand temperature and pressure changes from the atmosphere, and provide sufficient oxygen. It wouldn't send out a signal, but also wouldn't have a back up if the person as a projectile missed it's target._

"_Fucker. Is he CRAZY?" Viro muttered. Triclops continued to walk. From a physics perspective, with the speed an X-Wing traveled at, it would be a slim, at best chance the person would land on the ship. And, even if he did, it would be the same as being hit by a ship in a crash. How this would lead to some kind of disaster, Triclops didn't logically see._

_After a few more moments, Triclops saw – the person/projectile landed directly on the front of the X-Wing, knocking the ship down so quickly that Triclops had to walk backwards to see the exact point of connection. And then, upon looking closer up at the image, Triclops could see the person hadn't landed like a normal Human, but had rippled like made of a semi-solid._

_Triclops continued forward, watching as the person who had landed on the X-Wing – a man – proceeded to punch through the circuitry and paneling and send the ship in a downward spiral towards the planet's surface. The artoo unit behind the cockpit attempted to jab the assailant, only to have it's mechanical arm smashed off and the droid started to smoke and spark. The X-Wing's blasters and defensive weaponry couldn't do it any good when the man climbed back on top of the ship and beat on the cockpit windshield with both fists, leaving pressurized cracks in the glass._

"_What kind of freak IS he?" Viro asked, apparently just as baffled by what they were seeing as Triclops was. Triclops continued walking. The scene went on, the attacker on the X-Wing easily crippling the ship and knocking it down._

_As the ship started to near the ground, Triclops saw the windshield pop open and Skywalker unfasten himself from the pilot's chair. It would have seemed like a stupid move, except Triclops was quite sure that there wasn't anything that he could have done to continue controlling the ship. Instead, Skywalker had pulled a blaster from the cockpit and leveled it at the attacker, firing a sharp blast at the attacker's head._

"_Boy..." Viro commented, watching along with Triclops as the attacker on the X-Wing continued with what he was doing, "...Is it just me, or did that THING just SWALLOW that blaster bolt?" Triclops stopped, went backwards a little, enough for them to catch the exact moment: Indeed, just as the bolt had nearly reached it's target, the man had simply opened his mouth and gulped it down._

_(A/N: This is yet another sequence that would be so much cooler if it was on film or in a comic book format.)_

_Triclops had to stop. He didn't know how this was even possible, or what was going on, but he did know that it would end badly. He didn't even want to know how that bad ending came – it was just enough to know that it would come. Maybe it was because it was so ridiculous, Triclops just didn't want to see the ending. It didn't even make sense how any of it could have happened or how it worked._

"_You know, any other war general or commander wouldn't have put together an operative like that." Viro mentioned, "Yeah, it was goofy and if someone just said 'Someone's going to jump onto a moving X-Wing and start tearing it apart and when the pilot tries to shoot you, you'll just swallow the blaster bolts' pretty much anyone would just laugh it off... But, on the other hand, it worked. And whoever's doing it is actually able to do it and survive. That means someone else would be behind this, and they would have a purpose for it, one which they don't care if it means they have to be brutal and ruthless, or if they have to abandon all pretenses of dignity."_

_Triclops sat down. Viro didn't need to say it – he knew who was behind this._

"_...So..." Viro continued to prompt. Triclops turned and looked at him, "We aren't gonna wake up and DO something? Like, try and stop this?"_

_Triclops looked away, again._

"_There can only be one future."_

* * *

Chewbacca had been helping Han with repairs on the ship when he heard the buzzing from the comm system. Since he knew the ship wasn't really in need of real repairs – apart from the usual maintenance, Chewbacca had understood long ago that Han, being the cub he was, usually just used working on the ship as an excuse to not interact with other Humans – Chewbacca took it on himself to answer the comm.

It was a message in the Alliance code. To be specific, it was the Alliance code for an SoS from the Jedi cub's ship. And, if they were receiving the code instead of an actual holo comm, it meant the cub couldn't do the contact, himself, and if the droid had had to send the message...

":Cub.:" Chewbacca called.

"Whatever it is, it can wait, Chewie." Han called. Chewbacca growled something under his breath, then proceeded to the cockpit to start up the engines. Han would thank him later, anyway.

* * *

Ken's head was spinning. He wasn't sure where he was, nor, for that matter, how he'd gotten there.

He remembered being behind the pilot seat of Luke's X-Wing and they were on a routine mission to check scanners and sensors and be sure that the deflector shield generators were still functioning, and it was supposed to double as training. He remembered not being able to sense anything, save from feeling Luke's presence in front of him and Artoo in the plug behind him, and the ship as a whole... but that was it. He didn't remember them crashing or the ship starting to malfunction, or anything...

Well, no, now that he thought about it... Ken did recall that something had crashed into them – like a meteor or a very large bird or something... But what and how it had crashed and what it had done, he didn't remember. Maybe he'd passed out or hit his head or something...

Secretly, Ken hoped that he'd hit his head. A concussion would be a lot less embarrassing than this being the fourth time he'd passed out when something bad had happened.

He opened his eyes and blinked for a few times before he realized he COULD still see – it was just so dark in his location that his eyes took several minutes to adjust. A small room, at least two meters wide by two meters deep. No idea how high. Nothing but blank walls, and a door that let a little light leak in for him to see. Nothing to tell him where he was, nor how he got there.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Ken turned over and slowly pushed himself to his feet. When he stood completely upright, the floor felt like it was being turned squarely on it's side. Ken stumbled to either his left or his right and eventually had to press his hands and back against the wall to steady himself. Even then, the room felt like it was swaying like a pendulum. Ken slid back to the floor. The swinging stopped.

Right. So, he felt very, very, VERY dizzy when he stood up. Ken had to hold his breath before he felt sure he would breathe properly and not throw up or faint. This was still a question. He could figure this out – he just had to be calm.

Calm. Yes. He could be calm. He could think. He just needed to think...

Why was he dizzy? That was a medical question. Ken took a few more deep breaths before he went through all the possibilities. There was a concussion. If he had hit his head before, that would account for dizziness and his loss of perceptions. Ken cautiously felt around his forehead and over his ears with one hand. He didn't feel any bumps or breaks, but he'd read in a medical journal once that concussions could happen when the brain collided with the inside of the skull. It was no guarantee.

But what if that wasn't it? He had no idea how long he'd been out. What if his body had dehydrated and run down on nutrients? It could be a side effect of that. Well, it would be easy enough to figure that one – if he could just find out what time it was... Ken cautiously slipped onto his knees and crawled across the floor. Even that made the room feel like it was spinning and dropping out of place, but it was manageable. He reached the door and found that it wouldn't move. No controls on the inside, and when he knocked on it, pushed, or applied any kind of force, he didn't even feel it give or bend.

So, this wasn't just a room – it was meant for containment of some kind. Logically, that would mean he was someone's prisoner.

Right. Still breathing. Still calm.

If he was someone's prisoner, that could mean they'd drugged him. Or stunned him. Both would account for the dizziness and the fact that he had no recollection of how it had happened.

A stun would wear off soon enough. If Ken could stay calm, relax, and just ride it out, he'd be fine. But what if it was a drug of some kind? The best idea, then, would be to try to stay active, to engage his muscles and keep his blood flowing would speed up the rate of metabolism. Unless it was some other kind of chemical. Unless speeding up the process would only cause more damage...

Actually, Ken wasn't doing very good at thinking, and staying calm didn't seem to be helping either – his knowledge of poisons was limited, at best, and even if he could figure out which one it might be, he had virtually no input of how to treat it. Actually, panicking was starting to look like a good idea. Ken would admit it – he was nervous, and alone, and scared, and had no clue what to do. He had no data. He needed data. Data, data, data... what was there...

Luke! He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed. Luke was nowhere. Ken took a few more deep breaths. Had to stay calm, just a little longer. Luke would be calm. If Luke could be calm, Ken could be calm. He could. If he could find Luke; feel him out, or contact him with the Force, maybe he could have a chance...

Ken felt nothing. He couldn't even feel himself in the Force, let alone anyone else. It was like being completely numb, blindfolded, and immersed in a vat of ice water and trying to move your fingers and toes – he had no idea if he was even attached to them, anymore, let alone able to feel or use the Force.

Right. Brain, off. Now was definitely the time to panic.

* * *

"They should both be awake by now." Tilus muttered as Gornash followed him to the containment cells. When Tilus had forced the X-Wing to crash, Gornash knew that he'd also used a combination of a sleeping gas and a heavy stun to knock the two out. Gornash knew about the sleeping gas mostly because he'd helped mix the compound. One part would be fast acting, the other part would take longer to metabolize and cause disorientation in the meantime.

This being combined with a blast from a stun ray would keep even a Jedi appropriately subdued. Kadann had specified that both Skywalker and the boy be unable to resist, but conscious. Or, at the least, the boy be conscious. Skywalker could be out cold, for all Kadann cared. Certainly, Gornash and Tilus both knew it would be a smarter option to keep Skywalker completely out. They weren't stupid – they knew he was more powerful than any of them.

On the other hand, Jedgar was in charge of keeping Skywalker restrained for the upcoming session. What did they care if his prisoner gave him a little trouble?

"You're sure you didn't accidentally kill this kid? He couldn't have weighed more than thirty kilograms, from what I could tell." And Gornash would know – he'd carried the little bag of skin and bones into the holding cell.

"I'm sure. Trust me – I got rid of the excess gas before they smothered in it." Theoretically, Gornash supposed he should have known how Tilus had done that, but in reality, he really didn't. And, to be honest, he didn't really want to know.

Gornash was the one to punch the code in and open the cell. To both their surprise, the boy tumbled out, fully awake and shivering. It wasn't even the kind of awake as though he'd just come out of his stupor, but as though he'd been conscious for some time, now. Gornash wanted to curse at Tilus, except it was equally as likely that the drug had simply not been as potent as they'd thought.

What did that mean for Skywalker? Had he recovered completely?

If so, what kind of trouble must he be giving Jedgar, right now?

Tilus recovered first and snapped a pair of stun cuffs onto the boy's wrists, behind his back. He didn't resist. It did make Gornash wonder if it was the drugs or if it was simply because the boy was too scared to try to fight back.

Though, really, it was quite surreal. At first, Gornash was willing to try and subvert the task of capturing this boy and had willingly given Skywalker information. Now, he didn't care. Maybe it had just seemed like a good idea at the time, before Gornash had gotten bored. Or maybe the little bit of rebellion was all that he'd needed. Either way, he had no desire to help either of their captives now.

Gornash seized the back of the boy's collar and pulled him to his feet. The boy's legs kept buckling under his own weight, and it took several minutes before Gornash and Tilus were able to effectively steer – or drag – him to the main chamber. Kadann had instructed the setup, so. Who knew what the greasy little gnome was planning, anyway.

From the other corridor, Gornash saw Jedgar leading a half-limp Skywalker. Conscious, but very placid. If anything, Skywalker was swaying more on his feet than the boy. At least the boy was aware of the additional presences in the room – Skywalker looked like he could have been sleepwalking, he was so dazed.

'Jesus, what did that sleeping gas DO to them, anyway?'

"Luke!" The boy's voice came out as a shrill, almost panicked. Gornash gave him a kick to the shin. It made him stumble and fall over.

"Now, now, Mister Gornash... we needn't be harsh with our guests." Kadann chided, lightly. It was almost funny, because all of them could fill in the 'For now' that Kadann had left unspoken. Gornash was quite confident their 'guests' had even been able to figure that out.

Without saying anything more to Gornash, Kadann glided over and reached out as though to help their prisoner to his feet. The boy cringed away, pushing himself off the floor as though to stubbornly spite Kadann out of helping him.

This was apparently appreciated by Kadann.

"Well, since you're feeling well enough, let's get down to business, shall we?" Gornash remained in place, watching Kadann pace around in front of the boy, "You, my boy, are here because we would like two things from you, and one of them will come much easier if you're willing to cooperate. If you refuse, we will resort to more aggressive negotiations." And this argument could not possibly work. How Kadann thought it would actually achieve anything was beyond Gornash. Why not just say 'We're going to twist your arm and torture it out of you'?

"Why should I help you?" Gornash saw Kadann jump when they heard the boy speak. They'd mostly assumed he was still too stunned to be capable of it.

Of all of them, Kadann was the one to recover the quickest.

"For starters, the Alliance base sitting directly beneath our hull. If we so chose, we could, in theory, destroy it in a single blow – you saw what our Mister Tilus did to the craft carrying you two. It would be simple to decimate an entire fortress and kill all of your most valuable leaders." Kadann was smiling. For some reason, Gornash felt incredibly like he was on the receiving end of some threat, even though he was one of the partners in this crime, "But... that's only if we chose. We can be persuaded very easily to do otherwise."

It was true enough – Gornash remembered how they'd destroyed part of a Massai Temple just landing, only a few years ago. And, if they took the base by surprise, it would be easy enough to destroy their most vital equipment and kill soldiers. Oh, and there was the fact that once, Isard had tried to off them all with a legion of stormtroopers, and not one of those soldiers had come out of that fight, alive, even with weaponry that was much more advanced than any bargain-bin trash the Alliance was surely using.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gornash could see Eris just squirming and wishing they could just start blowing things up, anyway.

"...That does not make sense." The boy mumbled. Kadann stopped his pacing and stared at the boy for a moment, "...If you could do that, anyway, why would you not just do it by now?"

And this actually did make sense. Gornash still had no idea why they hadn't already just destroyed the Alliance headquarters and been done with it – he'd been more than content to sit back and wait for Kadann to make the decision.

Kadann was smirking again. That made Gornash exceedingly nervous. For all he knew, that was just a bluff, a stall, a way of hiding the fact that he knew his idea was stupid and was trying to appear smarter and cleverer than he really was. So... what was it that gave Gornash the idea that Kadann really did have a hidden motive under that insufferable grin?

Gornash didn't think any of them saw it coming when Kadann's hand shot out and his stubby little fingers dug into the boy's throat, just under his chin.

"Why don't we start with an agreement on manners? You mind your own business, and we'll spare the unpleasantries in this discussion." He hissed. The smirk was now thin and his teeth were clenched perfectly together.

"As far as I can see, is it not my business what you plan to do to the Alliance?"

Gornash did wonder – was this always what the boy was like? From what Barnaby and Tilus had described about their tussle on Tatooine, the boy was timid, easily spooked, and barely able to defend himself by running away, let alone withstand interrogation or reason like this. Where was this cool, clever logic coming from?

"I don't see how. None of them would think twice before selling you out, given that you're not any ally of theirs."

Only the two of them could have noticed the briefest widening of the boy's eyes before they narrowed into a scowl. It was wasted – it looked so out of place on his face.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" Inwardly, Gornash felt a little uncomfortable to simply stand by as this was happening. Kadann was enjoying himself too much with this, and it had a very familiar feel, though damned if Gornash could guess where it was from.

"They're Commander Skywalker's allies, and Commander Skywalker is my friend." The boy was now clenching his teeth. Something that Gornash could have assumed, since Kadann was definitely baiting him, now.

"How can you be so sure?" Was Kadann's not-so-clever retort. For some reason, though, it did seem to be getting to their prisoner. Was it because he was still a child? Or was it something else? The boy mumbled something between his clenched teeth, "What was that?"

"I said 'It is none of your business.'" The boy growled, his volume rising.

Kadann seemed to find this amusing.

"So, now we understand each other, do we?"

The boy jerked forward. Gornash had to step over and grab him by the elbows before he could lunge fully at Kadann.

"What does it matter to you? I do not care if it is foolish or if you mock me for it – I can at least make up my own mind about it! Look at you – I will bet you do not even remember what you were CHASING me for! What good does it do you now? And why even bother? Did you just want to have a good look at me? Are you just doing this because you have nothing better to do? Did the other kids bully you when you were little?" For someone as small as this boy, his voice could echo when he put his mind to it. Gornash could feel the sound reverberating in the loose panels of the walls. It either said something about their prisoner's voice, the ship's integral structure, or both.

Kadann started laughing, almost as loud as the boy had been shouting. It was deranged enough that Gornash almost cringed away.

"This is wonderful. I think we have the makings of a perfect villain on our hands, here."

The boy's only response was to scowl.

"But, since we do have business to attend to... why don't you give us the information we're looking for?"

"You have not asked me for any information, yet."

Gornash wanted to hit the little brat, except he couldn't wonder what was going on inside his empty head to prompt any behavior like this. It seemed unnatural, especially for a boy of his age.

"Very well." And, again, Kadann seemed to be enjoying this far too much, "All we need from you is the location of the Lost City."

"Go to hell." The boy snarled. Yet again, a response that seemed like it couldn't possibly come from a mere boy like this, and the unnerving strangeness of the moment was made even worse when Kadann snickered in response.

"What a vocabulary you have, for your age."

Gornash was actually starting to get a headache from this. Why would Kadann care about some Jedi relics – all they'd needed was the boy, and they had the means to destroy the rebellion, if they wanted. Aggravated and bored, Gornash felt his eyes wandering, waiting for this scene to be over with so they could get back to business.

'Why is this boy even bothering to answer? It's just a waste of...' Gornash's eyes landed on Skywalker. Oddly enough, his arms were limp behind his back, almost an angle like the stun cuffs were no longer on his wrists... '...time.'

Gornash didn't try to alert them, but it didn't really matter – Skywalker sprung off the ground and kicked Jedgar to the side quicker than anyone could have found the time to alert it. With just a gesture, his lightsaber sprang from – well, seemingly out of nowhere, even if Gornash knew they'd put it in a depository just in the same room for convenience sake – and was ignited in time to parry and press a blow from a recovering Jedgar.

All Kadann did was stand by the side and watch. Even when the other prophets nearby stepped in to subdue him, Skywalker batted them away as easily as insects.

"Mister Tilus – perhaps you would be the best."

Gornash expected Tilus to mumble something along the lines of 'Why me?' or 'I don't wanna', but he did surprisingly put himself into the line of fire. Maybe he thought that Skywalker would eventually come around to attack him if he didn't intervene, first. Whatever the reason, Tilus rolled right up next to Skywalker, one arm reaching up and grabbing the lightsaber blade without the slightest indication he felt it, and the other gripping Skywalker's hands and holding them still for a moment.

The next moment, Jedgar had recovered enough to come around and seize one of Skywalker's ankles. Tilus released his grip on Skywalker's arms, quick enough for Jedgar to spin Skywalker off the ground and throw him into the wall.

"Luke!" Gornash had to grab the boy by his elbows, again. Thankfully, whatever unexpected strength he'd had under interrogation didn't cross over into physical strength. The boy kicked and pulled, but didn't even loosen Gornash's grip, "Let go of me! Luke!"

Irritated, Gornash managed to hook a foot around the boy's ankle, and then release him. The boy made a satisfying thud as his face connected with the floor and he stopped flailing.

Kadann huffed. Gornash could see the corners of his mustache ripple, and there was, once again, a peculiar sense of deja vu. It passed quickly enough that Gornash turned his attention back to the matter at hand and pulled the boy back up and out of the way.

"Well, if this is all we're going to get done, today, I suppose there's nothing else we can do." Kadann shrugged, indifferently. And then, he glanced back over and Skywalker, now completely knocked senseless, and smirked, "Unless..."

Kadann gestured at the Jedi's fallen lightsaber. As though a magnetic connection existed between Kadann's fingertips and the metal, it jumped to him and the blade was activated as Kadann took a few cautious steps towards Skywalker.

Enemy or not, Gornash didn't like where this was going, especially not how Kadann was enjoying himself so much. Evidently, the boy agreed.

"No!" If his responses had been anxious before, this was definitely panic Gornash heard – the boy's voice seemed to climb a whole octave, "Don't! Luke!" And he probably would have run to put himself between Kadann and Skywalker if Gornash didn't have such a tight grip on him.

Kadann raised the saber blade and sliced his own palm open.

Gornash was more than willing to let go when the boy lurched forward and collapsed onto the floor, vomiting. Worse, it was mostly red, and Gornash caught the smell of iron and copper from where he stood.

"That will do for now." Kadann finally said, deactivating the weapon and returning it to the depository box, "Gornash, Jedgar – return our prisoners to their cells. We all have preparations to make for the main event."

Gornash didn't object as he obeyed. The boy was light enough to drag – almost as though he were insubstantial – and Jedgar was silent and completely detached, so much that Gornash could also ignore him. But still... Gornash couldn't help but wonder what was going on inside Kadann's tiny head. From all he could see, none of it had any point. In fact, none of it had any real substance – it felt like something out of a story, just meant to be frightening, but with so little point that Gornash couldn't become invested in any real fear or care about it.

He deposited the boy back in the cell. Jedgar had disappeared. It just left Gornash wondering what they were doing, and why Kadann was going to all this trouble just to terrorize a young boy. Granted, they all knew who the boy WAS, but... why not just get it over and done with?

These questions bothered Gornash. Was it conscience? Or was he just curious? He didn't know, and not knowing made him irritable. He'd find out, if only to have his own life back in control.

* * *

There were advantages to pretending to be unconscious, Luke had learned. Pretending to be subdued by the poison had made it easier for him to strike back out, just now, and that had earned him a little extra insight to the abilities of the Prophets holding them captive.

It was this that Luke meditated on, still pretending that he'd been completely stunned. Well... alright, he was a little woozy. He certainly wouldn't be able to fight back or get himself and Ken free anytime soon. But he also knew he had to be patient. Being rash would result in another problem like this had. If he was patient and meditated on this, he would be able to get them both out, maybe even without having to do their captors any harm.

There was the green-eyed prophet... Gornash, Luke thought his name was. He'd been the one to pass the information on to Luke. Maybe Luke could appeal to him for help. On the other hand, he hadn't been terribly forgiving in assisting with their capture, and Luke could sense something had distinctly changed in him. What? There had to be some reason...

Luke would come back to that later. After all, there had to be some hope for all of these men. Maybe if he could understand why they were doing why they were doing this... Was it simple prejudice? No, supposedly, they wanted to resurrect the Emperor, and could only do that using Ken as... a conduit? A vessel? Something along those lines. It made no sense for them to treat him so harshly if that was what they planned. And why would they want the location of the Lost City from Ken, anyway? Or was that just a stall for time, or a tool to keep them both distracted and Ken under pressure?

And, for that matter, what was the 'Main Event' the short prophet had spoken of? How much time did Luke have? What if he didn't have time to be patient?

No – he wasn't panicking. He could be patient, but he would be efficiently patient. Up until the last moment they had, he could think and plan.

"I still see no point in trying to pry the location of the City from that boy." Luke's eyes opened, then he forced them closed and made himself relax. He recognized the voice of the tall prophet – Jedgar – and their leader. If either of them realized he was fully conscious, he'd miss this chance for some information, and he needed every bit he could get.

"Jedgar, everything is useful in this galaxy. You just have to know whom it's valuable to." The leader replied, smugly.

"But none of us are Jedi. The only powers we have are from those damned experiments – nothing down there will make any of us stronger in the least." That was a surprise. Luke had assumed these prophets were strong in the Dark Side of the Force. He hadn't realized that none of them could even use it.

"But there ARE Sith who would have great use for the information in the Jedi Library. After all, where do you think I got the instructions for the ritual we need?"

Luke heard some indistinct noise. He was tempted to try and press his ear to the door, maybe he'd be able to discern it, but it was over before he heard Jedgar speak again.

"Cronal?" He even sounded alarmed, and Luke had no doubt that this was a real Sith they were speaking of, "But... he has to be dead by now. And if we just give him the information, what if he turned on us? We must be just as interesting – we're surviving experiment numbers!"

"We'll give him bits and pieces – and, in any case, we'll have the Emperor to keep him at bay for us."

"What if the Emperor decides to destroy us, once we've resurrected him? He tried once, remember?"

"This time, we'll have a tool to keep him restrained. You saw how the boy reacted in the chamber, just now."

Luke tried to calm himself. They were talking about Ken. What did they know that he didn't? And how did they plan to use it to their advantage?

"I don't like depending on other factors to ensure victory." Jedgar finally replied. Luke could just hear Kadann smirking.

"You needn't worry." He said, "I've gotten everything in order – we'll have sufficient allies on all sides that nobody will dare oppose us, and the Emperor will be kept in check. We'll have nothing to fear."

Jedgar made a noise that sounded like he sincerely doubted that.

"Trust me. I always get what I want."

* * *

"_The Emperor has decided to release select prisoners early. If the rest of you continue in the same fashion as these prisoners, you two might be granted the option of release. For those of you being selected, you shall be given a special assignment, serving the Emperor, himself."_

Some of the instruments he was gathering reminded Gornash a little too much of the Mines. Which was stupid, and Gornash knew it, because the Mines had been focused on either the prisoners doing menial labor or serving as tests in experiments.

"_Cooperate, and the posts you will be assigned will be made the best that any officer or agent in the Empire is granted. But be warned; to select you, each prisoner will be expected to answer a series of questions. Questions require answers. And don't think you can deceive us."_

Scalpel, razor, probe, needle, clamps... Some tools were crude, some more sophisticated, but it was mostly straightforward what their purpose was. And how they would be used went without saying.

"_That will do. You'll be on the ship off the planet."_

They were different. What they were doing wasn't just senseless slaughter – and, besides, the boy would probably live, anyway – and it wasn't an innocent.

"_You're certainly demanding. You want us to grant you a favor before being put on your assignment? You're just a prisoner."_

"_Then, you have no reason not to just shoot me for having the nerve to ask."_

Not like they had all been.

"_...Ask, then. And I'll see if I feel like it."_

_The prophet had been so tall. He hadn't even been able to see his face, not as it was hidden under the hood._

"Hey, Copy-Cat." Gornash wanted to say he hadn't jumped, but that would be unfair. To tell the truth, he'd been growing steadily jumpier and jumpier since they'd brought the prisoners aboard. Tilus didn't mention it, just reaching his meaty hands up to help prepare the tools.

"Is something going wrong?" Gornash was proud that he kept his voice composed. And, if their prisoners were acting up or something else had gone awry – not too unlikely, given that Eris was getting more and more anxious to start blowing things up – that would just make Gornash more liable to... to... oh, he didn't know, anyway, what he wanted to do.

"...Sure is a skinny little drip, isn't he?" And Tilus would know this, too – he'd had to handle both the boy and Skywalker to clear them of the X-Wing wreckage before they'd been brought aboard, "Almost like they aren't feeding him nothing."

Gornash made a non-committal noise. Tilus' voice had strained, as though trying to keep his casual, mocking, insulting tone, but that tone was almost the same as one that sounded... invested, somehow.

_It could have been anything. He could have made a small request, to try and show how subservient he was, how easy he'd be to control. That would have been smarter, and easier. Instead, he stood there with his skeletal knees knocking together and a shiver running up each exposed vertebrae on his back._

"_I want to see my brother."_

"_Really?"_

"_The doctor wanted us as sets. He would have been brought in for the experiments, too. I haven't seen him. I just want to see him, again."_

"He deserves it." Tilus grumbled, loudly. He was filling a syringe with an acid of some sort, "He's Sithspawn. Scum. Bound to turn out bad in the end. Anyone born from a Sith bloodline deserves it."

Tilus slammed the full syringe down on the tray. Next to it, Gornash unfolded a sterilized power shear.

_A laugh echoed from inside the hood._

"_Very well."_

"Right." Was all Gornash could muster.

"Right." Tilus aggressively agreed.

Right.

* * *

This time, Ken forced himself to calm down. As best he could with his hands bound, he folded himself into a meditative position and tried to breathe like Luke had taught him when meditating. He could be calm. He could be at peace.

He had to be.

On one hand, Ken wanted to think about why these Prophets were doing what they were doing. On the other, Ken knew he had little to no data about that, so it would be a wasted effort. Well, maybe he could try gleaning from what he knew about their personalities and abilities... which would also be wasted, because he knew very little about those, as well.

There was a part of him that snidely remarked that Mister Triclops had been able to work out that it had been Luke who asked Ken a favor from absolutely nothing. It stung that Ken was still so helpless that he couldn't be as deductive.

Well, starting from a few guesses: Their leader had asked for the location of the Lost City. So, supposedly, they wanted to find it and take something from it. The problem with that theory was that they could have easily found those coordinates in the log of Luke's X-Wing, or even from Artoo's databanks. Ken didn't care how much damage was done to the ship, at least one of the two would have survived, and it would have been much simpler.

So, they wanted to SEEM like they were trying to find the Lost City as a pretense to keep him distracted and to do whatever they were going to – Ken had mostly figured that torture would be in the works, the lead Prophet hadn't exactly been subtle on that point.

Funny – a few months ago, Ken would have thought it was exciting and cool to be a hero and to be captured by the enemy and tortured for information, but never yield it for the sake of the Rebellion.

What had he been THINKING?

Right, not getting distracted. Why bother with him? Well, perhaps because he was younger and wouldn't be trained to withstand torture. That did make sense... except why bother bringing Luke aboard? Why not kill him? Or why not kill Ken and torture it out of Luke – he might be trained, but it would spare them the trouble of keeping two prisoners contained and subdued.

Not that Ken was unhappy they'd decided to keep Luke alive, for whatever reason. If there was one good thing, it was that, at least, they were both alive and both had a chance of getting out of this. Ken had tried to buy Luke some time to get out earlier. He had to keep doing that. It was all he could do, but it was their only shot. He had to believe Luke would be able to recover and get them both out of this.

The door to the cell opened. The tall prophet with green eyes came into view and wordlessly pulled Ken to his feet.

'He's bigger and stronger than me, so resisting won't really give me much of a delay. Cooperating and trying to make him stall would be a better option.' Ken wasn't even sure where he was getting this from – it felt like a distant portion of his brain was operating to connect little pieces and send the message to the rest of him. Like his brain was split into two different machines, and in one portion, the gears were turning and connecting, and it was traveling over kilometers of wire just for one byte of the data to reach the other machine.

Ken let the Prophet pull him along the corridor.

"Just torturing me will not get you the information you want." He mentioned, trying with all his might to sound casual. The Prophet slowed and cast him a scowl over his shoulder. Ken assumed that meant he'd gotten it right, "I will probably just faint before I say anything."

"It's generally not considered smart to tell the interrogator this before he starts with you." The Prophet replied, sounding thoroughly disinterested.

Ken shrugged as bravely as he could manage.

"Might as well tell you the truth."

The Prophet stopped and turned, fully. Ken wanted to cringe, but the Prophet didn't make any move beyond that – he simply stood and stared down his nose at Ken. All Ken could see were those eyes that seemed to gleam on their own, and the long, vertical scars extending from the corners of his eyelids.

"I'd worry about myself if I were you." If Ken hadn't known any better, that sounded less like a threat and more like a warning. As it was, though, he did know he was a prisoner. And what would one of his captors care about warning him?

"Why?" Ken managed to reply. Oh, how proud of him any of the Rogue Squadron or Captain Solo would have been, just to see him now, "What do I have to be scared of?" And this was a complete bluff, but Ken just held on to the imaginary reactions of the pilots, if they could see him acting like a real man instead of a crybaby wimp.

The Prophet was apparently not as impressed. His response was to turn away and continue dragging Ken after him.

The room that Ken was finally pulled into was a low-ceilinged chamber, too dark for him to see anything clearly. He tripped over protrusions in the floor, as though they'd been placed there just for that purpose, before he felt himself being lifted clear off the floor and set down on what he could only guess was a table.

So, logically, this probably meant he was going to be strapped down. Ken forced himself to breathe slowly – he could expect what they were going to do. It was going to be painful, but if he could think about it logically, he could anticipate it. It would – he hoped – hurt less if he could just think about the logical process of inducing what would come. If he could just keep thinking about the logic, about the predictability...

Ken heard something else in the room. He knew the other Prophets had to be here, but it was definitely not one of them. It sounded... it sounded like crying.

Both of his legs were strapped down. Instinctively, Ken tried to pull against them and wasn't surprised – and, consequently, he tried not to be alarmed, but found he was, somewhat – that the restraints were solid and didn't allow for even the slightest bit of movement. Next, he felt something sealing around his wrists and elbows. He tested and, just as he expected, they were just as unyielding as the restraints around his legs.

"Come on, can't we just get to it, already?" Ken could hear the voice of another one of the Prophets in the room. He recognized it – the little short one who'd thrown fire on Tatooine. He'd been volatile and rude and aggressive, but, if Ken recalled correctly, he was also easily distracted and not the brightest of the lot. Beyond brute intimidation, there wasn't much Ken was expecting from him.

Of course, since he was mostly at their mercy, those conditions weren't really applicable. Still, he could gauge which of the Prophets would be the worst, how badly he'd need to brace himself...

Ken could still hear someone whimpering. It sounded like a different person, too – the first had undoubtedly been male, and this person had to be female. What was going on?

"In a moment, Prophet Eris." And that was their leader speaking up, again. Five minutes in the same room had been enough to cement Ken's opinion that he was the worst of them, "We need to go through the steps in order."

Ken forced himself to think. Steps... meaning there was a process involved... other words for process... operation... method... procedure? Procedure also meaning ritual, which would involve a series of steps to be performed in a certain order in order to accomplish a goal... that probably meant some kind of Dark Side technique.

Thinking that way wasn't helping Ken stay calm – he'd only learned a little about the Sith, and more in historical facts of crimes they committed and wars fought against them by the Jedi.

"Prophet Mammar? The lights, if you please."

The chamber was illuminated from an orange glow on the floor. It wasn't quite adequate light for Ken to see the room in its entirety, but it did allow him to see the row surrounding his position in the center, and exactly where the whimpering and crying had been coming from moments ago.

There were at least twenty other people in the room, save himself and the Prophets. Some of them seemed older, some younger, and Ken found himself horrified to turn his head and end up staring straight into the eyes of a child, barely older than five. Each of them were rooted to the floor with restraints and binders, as though someone had put their foot on each of the prisoner's backs and pushed them down to the floor.

"I think he can see well enough. Prophet Eris, you may begin if you wish." And any thought of trying to stay calm or brace himself went out the window. Ken knew he couldn't prepare himself for this.

"NO..."

* * *

"You're sure these are the right coordinates?" Leia insisted as the Falcon swooped lower over a good ten kilometers stretch of ruined trees. So far, they had yet to see any X-Wing wreckage, let alone find Luke.

"S'what the S.O.S reported. And Chewie said was transmitted by Artoo – it wouldn't be off." Han had taken Leia's forced entry onto the ship quite well, especially given that she'd only come aboard on a vague notion that something was wrong with Luke. For whatever reason, it was just the three of them hunting for the lost X-Wing and it's crew, "Still, this much interference'll screw up any radar readings we can pick up..."

Leia didn't respond except to get out of the passenger seat and head back into the ship. If the Falcon's instruments couldn't pick up any readings from a crash, then she'd just have to go out and find it by hand.

"Leia!" What she hadn't expected was Han to come after her. He wasn't even using any of his usual pet names for her.

So, he was just as worried as she was, then...

"I'm going down to ground level and look for any wreckage. I'll contact you if I can find anything to point us in the right direction." Leia said, simply. Without looking, she knew that Han was reaching out to try and grab her.

"The hell you are." He shouted. It was almost the sort of shout that always aggravated Leia, as though he thought shouting at her would make her listen to him. She turned around to shout back...

And that's when it hit. Everything inside Leia clenched, as though her insides had grown legs and were starting to wriggle out of place. Her face felt cold. Her stomach felt hot. She shook, unevenly, on her feet.

"Leia?" She could feel Han brace her, but the unsettling feeling didn't go away. It was like she wanted to throw up, except the nausea came from some other organ in her body. She couldn't think clearly. She couldn't even see straight.

"Leia, what's wrong?" And, for some reason, she knew. She didn't know what she knew, but it was the same way she knew that Luke had been in trouble and had come with Han to respond to the S.O.S, the same way she'd known when he'd survived the explosion of the second Death Star, the same way she'd heard him calling on Bespin... all those little things.

Leia had to sit down. Whoever was responsible for this crash – and Leia was absolutely certain that someone had done it, deliberately – they were doing something far worse, now.

* * *

At the same time, Luke felt just as disturbing a sensation through the Force. It was like the pain of a migraine, except concentrated in his chest. All of the electricity and throbbing pain was there, but it simultaneously seemed like every cell in his body was retreating into a giant knot inside him, clenching as though trying to escape from every other cell around it.

Luke forced himself to breathe, to remain calm. He would only be confused and that wouldn't give him any insight to what was happening. He had to relax, stay in tune with the Force...

Think.

What was the 'Main Event' that the leader had been talking about? It was undoubtedly not a kind event that they had planned, and Luke had mostly guessed either he, or Ken, or both of them would be facing some torture. Coupled with what Luke was feeling right now...

It didn't feel like what torture felt like, not when he felt it through the Force. That was a brief, sharp pain, but it was less a pain and more a discomfort, like his body being aware of something wrong and the need to correct it, except it was relating to someone else. The sensation he'd felt when Han and Leia had been tortured hadn't hurt like this – it had just been a message, and all torture felt that way.

So this...

Luke concentrated. Where was Ken? Something told him that Ken was part of why he was feeling this. If he could reach him...

Luke could feel it – Ken's mind, whirling in confusion. There was something else about his confusion, though. Luke remembered how Ken felt, empathy wise, in other situations. It would be anything from curiosity with a sense of cautionary awe, or a strict sense of cold and clinical seriousness. Compared to this – the coolness, the almost shallow human emotions Ken had displayed up until now seemed to burn and go bone deep, like a drop of stomach acid dripped onto a bare arm.

What were they doing to Ken? It wasn't torture... Luke could tell that – Ken wasn't feeling any physical pain... but touching his mind made Luke's vision split, made his head ache, made his stomach writhe like he was being cleaved in half by a blade a thousand times hotter than a lightsaber.

_Luke opened his eyes to find his vision clear, again, but also singularly unreal. It was like coming out of a fever and being able to see clearly and not feel any sense of pain, but only because he'd opened his eyes inside a virtual reality simulator..._

_Virtual..._

_He was dreaming._

"_Very good, Commander Skywalker." Luke didn't need to turn around. As though at his command, the world bent so he found himself facing Triclops. He sat, legs folded underneath him, staring calmly into Luke's eyes like a possessed puppet. A second bodily embodiment of Triclops was laying on his side, propped up by an arm, and glaring at Luke with no malice and yet, all the malice in the world._

"_What are you doing?" Luke asked, not sure if he should remain calm and patient, or if he should be especially worried about being pulled into a dreamscape against his will. He didn't even remember falling asleep._

"_The same damn thing he's trying to do to the kiddo." The other Triclops said, waving a hand and conjuring up an image in the floor. Luke let his line of sight fall, and watched as the scene unfolded. It was a room, and the floor was covered in decorative piping that, as far as Luke could tell, was symbols and lettering from some tradition he didn't know of. Ken was strapped to a table in the middle. The prophets were going around the room in circles, and at each point they stopped, he saw them level blasters or their sabers or some other tool of weaponry, and from each, he heard a human scream before they fired._

_It was a ritualistic murder unlike any that Luke could recall seeing with his own, two eyes, and each scream matched with a stabbing pain that echoed through the Force and into his body as though he were being shot or stabbed, himself._

_Either because he'd made his point, or because he recognized signals that Luke was simply too overwhelmed by the scene, the original Triclops put his hand down to the floor and the image faded. Luke had to pause to regain his composure – for whatever reason, given that he was dreaming and didn't need to breathe, he didn't understand, but also didn't question given the gravity of the situation – before he looked up and recognized the look in Triclops' eyes._

_The resignation. The tiredness. The surrender._

_The conflict._

_The same feelings Luke had felt from Vader. From his father._

_And there was a look of disgust, anger, disdain in the other Triclops' face. Disdain for how resigned the original Triclops was._

"_You already knew this would happen." Luke observed. Triclops looked down to the floor, as though he thought he would see something in it, as blank as it was, "This is your son. You could help him. If I'd known... if you'd told me, I would have listened." To his credit, neither Triclops or the other version of himself muttered any 'Woulda, coulda, shoulda' comments, "You know that. I DO believe in you. I DO believe that Ken won't turn to the Dark Side. I don't think our destiny is set for us. You know that. Why couldn't you at least trust me?"_

_It felt a great deal like the way he felt when talking with Ken. When he knew Ken was hiding something from him. When he knew that Ken didn't trust him, didn't believe Luke when he told Ken anything..._

_If Luke were to focus on how it felt, he would have to say it stung. But he couldn't. Not when his apprentice was suffering, being used as a pawn in someone's game. He wouldn't let it happen again._

_Triclops gave him a Look._

"_There can only be..." He murmured, as though repeating a line that he'd practiced and heard and believed so many times that he couldn't think of any other response to a question, "One future."_

_Luke watched him for a moment. There was such a volume of pain in his voice, as though he'd tried so hard to believe in some other answer, but had been proved wrong on so many fronts, had been too hurt by trying to believe that he just couldn't move anymore._

_Maybe, he didn't need someone to prove him wrong... maybe he needed someone to believe him... just not the defeatism._

"_You're right." Luke agreed. Triclops looked at him, eyes wide as a child's. Luke gazed evenly back at him. He was calm. He was at peace. He WAS peace, "...There can only be one future... and it is always in motion."_

_Both incarnations of Triclops blinked at him. One in bewilderment, the other in a grudging, almost appraising admiration._

"_What can you do?" Luke asked. Triclops continued to blink, completely baffled at how Luke was behaving, "If you could pull me into a dreamscape, can't you do the same for Ken? For any of the prophets? Whatever you could do, you could help."_

_Still, Triclops blinked at him. It was as though he'd never considered that any person could be like Luke._

"_I'm going to get myself and Ken out of this." Luke stood up. How he'd appeared sitting in this dream, he wasn't sure, but he stood up, all the same, "I'm going to save my apprentice, and my apprentice is your son. Anything that you can do will help. And it will move us into the future."_

And with that, Luke found himself unexpectedly awake, staring up at the ceiling at his cell.

Whatever it was about that moment, Luke found himself more determined than ever – he would get out of here, he'd rescue Ken, he'd save his apprentice from a fate worse than death...

And if anyone asked him the reason, and all other reasons he could muster were defeated, it would be just so he could prove to this desperate father that his son had a future. He wouldn't let Ken slip and fall. He would protect him.

He would.

He would.

* * *

The boy resumed consciousness as Gornash dragged him back to his cell. Kadann had given Gornash orders to watch the boy and ensure his wounds were tended to and he didn't get infected with anything or bleed to death after their ritual.

Kadann had taken one look at the boy after two hours of their session – all of the instruments Gornash had prepared had been put to use, and each of them had had their turn. The only one whom Kadann had forbidden from doing as he pleased was Darth Asmod – or Prophet Mammar, whichever alias he'd been assigned – and of all of them, Gornash was certain he was responsible for more scars on the boy's flesh.

Gornash took a moment to look down at their prisoner. Every mark left on his skin stood out, burning red like the blood he was bleeding, or the heat they'd heated their branding irons to.

Gornash believed this boy was the Emperor's descendant – he looked like a noble, with his body being marble white, from head to toe, as though he'd never seen a centimeter of sunlight. Of course he hadn't – he'd grown up in the Lost City of the Jedi, underground. What was Gornash thinking?

...Yes, what indeed.

Gornash deposited the boy in his cell, the proceeded to treat his wounds. Bacta patches for wherever he was bleeding, just in case, synthflesh for anything that they'd punctured too deeply, aloe for the burns.

Of course, Gornash wasn't as dedicated as Kadann had ordered him to be. He wanted the boy to have scars. It was the least he could do. After everything that he owed them, it was the least the boy could do – carry around some reminder of this.

After all they'd suffered through, after all the scars he and the other prophets had... like the scars under his eyes...

Like his brother...

A few marks that were just marks of torture, torture that didn't disfigure him, that didn't immobilize him or change him or make him into some freakish experiment... What harm could it do? It was only fair.

Gornash treated the wounds as little as he knew he could get away with. The boy would live, and he'd get through without any infections or diseases or anything of the sort. It was just his job, and the boy was getting what he deserved.

The boy's eyes opened. They gleamed like molten silver in the faint light.

For some odd reason, it made Gornash wary. He continued what he'd been doing, as though it didn't matter to him what the boy was doing, but he could feel the boy's eyes on him. It was almost like that doctor...

Doctor Megele... He'd always been there, always known, always been able to penetrate into his deepest secrets, always seen... Gornash had always hidden, tried to keep it from him, tried to save the little bit of him that had been him...

"Why are you doing this?" The boy asked.

The sound of his voice seemed different from before. Gornash didn't want to turn around and look into those eyes. If he did, the boy would know. He'd see everything. He'd know.

Gornash couldn't let him know. He had to stay in control.

"None of your business." He responded.

The boy was silent, and somehow, Gornash felt like that was even worse than his voice. Worse than his gaze. Worse than the Doctor or the Emperor... worse than them all.

"Then, what do you plan to do once you have gotten what you wanted?" The boy's voice was quieter, much quieter than before. It barely touched Gornash's ears. It was like he was doing it on purpose, as though he knew that Gornash didn't want him to be a person. As though he were mocking Gornash with his voice.

No, he was a prisoner. More than that, he was Sithspawn. He was the enemy. He couldn't be a person. He wasn't Human. He as an it. He had to be an it. It was the only way that Gornash could do this and not be cruel, not be the villain.

Had to be.

Had to be.

"I don't know." Gornash kept his voice as neutral as he could. He was proud of himself for this.

"What about the others?" The boy asked.

"I don't know, and I don't care." Gornash replied.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't care."

"What about to Luke?" The boy asked, voice sounding just as blank to Gornash as before. Of course, for all Gornash knew, that was just how he wanted to hear it. Maybe the boy was more anxious than he thought, "What about to the other members of the Alliance? What will you do to them?"

"What does it matter to you?" Gornash muttered, determined to not allow this boy to turn into a person.

"Whatever you plan to do to them... Please, do not." It did make Gornash more than a little uncomfortable. The Alliance and Skywalker... they weren't 'its'. They weren't enemies. They were people. They could also be just as much innocents as...

No. No, Gornash told himself – they were enemies. Or they would be. All he had to do was think of them as 'its', when the time came. He couldn't let his resolve waver.

"Whatever you plan to do... do it to me!" The boy was still talking, "Please... Whatever it is, I shall take it! But not them! I am begging you!" And he was making it increasingly hard to be just an 'it'.

It angered Gornash.

"Shut up."

The boy was quiet for a while. Then, after enough time for him to regain his thoughts, but not enough for Gornash to recover, he spoke again.

"Where will you go after this? Any of you?" Gornash paused in his sorting through his medical equipment, "Don't you have any family? Or friends? Or a place to call home?"

Gornash's hands froze, not of his will. They wouldn't move, no matter how he tried to command them to. But his lips moved, as though controlled by a part of his brain that refused to freeze.

"I don't care what the others do..." He said, "But I'm going home. Back to Alderaan. Back to my family's farm."

The boy didn't speak for several minutes. Then, Gornash heard him speak.

"...But... you mean you do not know?"

That was ominous enough that Gornash turned around and stared at the boy. His eyes were wide open, despite the bandages around his face, holding his eyelids down, keeping him frozen in time.

No matter what Gornash had done, the face of a boy, not an 'it', was staring back at him.

"Don't know what, boy?" Gornash demanded. The boy sat up. It was as though he couldn't even comprehend his bandages or injuries.

"...The Empire destroyed Alderaan... years ago. That is what prompted the Battle of Yavin."

Gornash stared at the boy. His lips moved, as though controlled by something else. The words cut through the air as though it had been replaced with something thick and solid, and his words were bolts from a blaster that pierced through them and implanted themselves in Gornash's brain.

"...With the Death Star. They blew Alderaan up..."

Gornash felt dizzy. It was as though the world had tipped onto its side. He felt everything under his feet going cold, every extremity in his body losing it's feeling. Maybe this was what fainting felt like, or drunkenness, or... or...

Or dying. Gornash felt like he was plunging into unconsciousness that he would never awaken from...

"You're LYING!" He managed. Was that his voice? It didn't feel like it. It didn't sound like it. It sounded and felt like it came from something else, like it came from a monster that Gornash had kept buried, that had been waiting to surface and gobble him up from the inside out.

The boy recoiled. The look in his eyes remained that piercing look, that saw though into Gornash's deepest, most inner most secrets, and now, Gornash saw fear. As though the boy could see the monster, and knew what was waiting inside Gornash and was reacting in terror to that monster.

And Gornash hated him for seeing what he was, underneath it all.

"...I..." The boy stammered. Gornash took a step over him. The boy kept recoiling, trapped though he was by the cell's walls and locked door, "...I..." Gornash kept walking over him. No matter how scared the boy looked, no matter how powerful he was, no matter how the doors and walls kept them sealed in...

The boy wasn't a captive. He never was. He never would be. It was Gornash that was locked up, encased in this role and trapped inside this room. Trapped by this boy.

"I am sorry... I am so sorry."

That was it. Reality seemed to completely fall away. All that was real was the world as it crept up around Gornash, and trapped him inside this cage of reality. Inside the cage that this boy was building around him.

Around who he was.

Around his dreams.

Around his soul.

Gornash dropped and pinned the boy to the floor. No, he wasn't a boy, anymore. This was just an 'it'.

Gornash had to smile. Of all things, it was this 'it' that had given him the power to no longer see a boy, Sithspawn or no, completely at his mercy, able to be controlled and used...

"No, you're not." Gornash hissed. 'It's' eyes gleamed. If 'it' had been a person, Gornash would have called it either fear or tears that he saw in this 'its' eyes. But they weren't. It was just a gleam. Mocking him. Taunting him, "You're not sorry enough."

Not yet.

* * *

_Mehgan Retaw clawed through the foliage of tall grass and flowers. All of them seemed to overpower her. Every stalk was taller than she was. She couldn't even see where she was going._

_But she knew where she was going._

_She had to save Kendalina. Her apprentice. Her youngling. Her beloved..._

_She would. She had to._

_Then, she saw it. Up ahead, buried in the tall stalks of the plants – what kind of flowers they were, she couldn't say – Mehgan saw a body. All of the plants were growing out of it. Their roots covered the body, sapping it of it's strength, of it's ability to live. The flowers were killing her Kendalina._

_Mehgan dove in. Her hands moved to shred the plants, to claw them away from her padawan, to save her..._

_And then, Mehgan got to the bottom of it. She saw the body's face._

_It wasn't Kendalina. It looked like her, but it wasn't..._

_All around her, it started to rain flowers. Falling in tribute of a lost innocence._

_It was Kendal's face._

"_Master Retaw." Mehgan sat up, then turned. Behind her, Kendalina stood completely erect, a blaster wound through her head and blood dripping down her face._

"_...Kendalina..."_

"_I'll never forgive you."_

* * *

Mehgan woke up. As she did, she heard the clink of glass clattering to the floor. When she bothered to look, she saw an empty bottle of Corellian Rum next to her. Dream. It had just been a drunken dream.

Well, that's what she got for turning to alcohol to solve her problems.

Still... there was something about that dream that had her more than a little worried.

Mehgan tried to relax. Kendal. What was happening to Kendal? She stretched out into the Force.

...And felt nothing. The warmness she'd felt with the Force had been replaced with... numbness. It wasn't just Kendal she couldn't feel... it was everything.

She'd forgotten how the Force had felt. All she could think of was the cold numbness of the lack, and the artificial warmth of the rum.

It was gone.

"NO!"

A/N: So let's recap this chapter, shall we? Luke and Ken are kidnapped, the Prophets of the Dark Side are evil bastards, innocent people are killed, Ken is tortured and raped, (By the most sympathetic of all the Prophets, no less) and Master Retaw loses her connection with the Force. Can't wait to see how I top that in the next chapter.

...Good God, I might be a horrible person.


	26. Part III: Chapter 6

PRINCE

By Sapadu

A/N: Remember, remember the Fifth of November, the gunpowder treason and plot.

Chapter 6:

A few hours, and the boy had passed out. Gornash supposed that was more than they'd ever expected – he'd really thought it would only be a matter of minutes. Of course, Gornash hadn't thought any of several other things would happen, either. Things like his very blatant attempt to win Gornash over, and how baldly he'd tried to lie and...

Maybe it made more sense, this way – to just say that sweet, innocent little face had just been an act was a better explanation for how long and how enduring he'd been under torture than to try and chalk it up to being a kid who was good, brave, and selfless. Nobody was that good.

Nobody.

"If the point of torture is to cause as much pain as possible, why're we taking breaks?" Noma groused, out loud. He wasn't cursing as much as he usually did. Observant as he was, Gornash could only assume this meant something was bothering the normally fire-spitting Prophet.

"For one thing, torture's only effective if the subject is conscious enough to be aware of his condition." For whatever reason, Gornash wasn't surprised that Asmod was the one who knew this information, "For another, the point isn't to kill him, but that'll happen if he doesn't have a chance to recover between sessions. That's why Copy-Cat over there was told to patch him up, right?"

And now, all eyes in the room were on Gornash. He simply shrugged.

"He's awake and not in physical shock, but not responding to stimuli." Was all he said. And, speaking of shock, he could see some very obvious tells on the other Prophets. Noma wasn't swearing or cursing or making any amount of effort to clear the silence – in fact, he was rather quiet. They had all been waiting here for fifteen minutes for the Devil's Duo to show up, and that one question was all Gornash had heard out of him.

"...Anyone think that maybe we won't have to do that again, if the runt's not even really lucid?" Tilus asked. He was sitting on the floor, not even bothering to try and support his own weight, and distractedly chewing on his thumb. Sitting back to back with him was Barnaby, curled up into a fetal position and breathing in a rhythmic manner that seemed too strong to be anything but intentional. The only one who didn't seem to be even the tiniest bit perturbed was Asmod... and even then, for all Gornash knew, it was just because, not having spent much time around the unsavory character, Gornash didn't know his tells.

Gornash just kept his chin tucked to his chest and his hands folded into the sleeves of his robe. He wasn't going to let this disturb him. They were doing the right thing – or, if what they were doing couldn't be called exactly the right thing, they were doing it for the right reasons.

And even if they weren't, at the very least, they were...

"_Stop it! Please! Stop!"_

Well, at any rate, Gornash refused to be disturbed. To be upset by what they were doing would be admitting that they were wrong. To admit they were wrong would be admitting the Empire had been in the right. And to admit that would...

"Gentlemen, I assume everyone's had a proper amount of time to breathe before the second round." Kadann and Jedgar were back. For once, Gornash was... somewhat relieved... that they decided to show up. Almost immediately, Tilus put his hand up – a habit, Gornash realized, that he'd never understood where, nor why, Tilus had gotten so attached to it.

"Copy-Cat over there says the kid's still kinda out of it. Maybe we should wait a little longer." He said, sounding like he either wanted to whine or throw up, or both. Gornash said nothing, and was the tiniest bit more relieved when Kadann decided to focus his attention on Tilus, "...We could use the time to try and feed them. Y'know... 'cuz they're our guests..."

As opposed to prisoners. That sounded ludicrous to Gornash's ears, but he knew why Tilus said it – because 'Guests' was always the word Kadann used to describe the two.

"Why, we've hardly had them for twelve hours. Surely, they won't starve in so short a time." Kadann reasoned. Tilus chewed a little on his thumb.

"...Still..."

"Mister Tilus, you sound rather anxious to postpone the ritual."

That was all he said, but, to Gornash's conditioned ears, Kadann might as well have just finished the statement he'd been hinting at: Surely, you're not having second thoughts.

"I do not!" Tilus snapped, far too viciously for the otherwise benign statement. Kadann held up his hands, as though offended.

"Now, now. I'm sure you have your reasons." Again, leaving it hanging with an unspoken accusation that everyone in the room heard, anyway, "And there are plenty of good reasons for us to proceed with caution. Don't you agree, Prophet Barnaby?"

Barnaby hadn't met anyone's eyes since the start of this. Now, he made it even more painfully obvious he was uncomfortable with this setup – specifically, the moment Kadann put him on the spot, Barnaby pulled the hood of his robe up and over his head and mumbled something.

"I'm sorry, I don't think anyone caught that." Kadann was acting even more like he was trying to be comforting. Who did this runt think he was fooling?

Runt. Runt. Runt.

Gornash felt like that might mean something more later. But, for the present, Kadann – the runt – was pestering Barnaby into admitting, basically, that he was starting to get cold feet. It was so blatant, it made Gornash even more disgusted. That, if nothing else, made Gornash feel quite justified in what he'd done – Kadann was just playing these games to manipulate them. To show them all that he had control over them. But not him. Gornash was not going to be used as a pawn, and he'd just proven that.

"Just..." Barnaby finally snapped, not quite shouting but definitely bordering on it, "...If this is gonna be the effect every time, maybe we should figure out some different ways of doing it."

Different ways. Gornash kept his posture straight and did his utmost not to look at any of the other Prophets.

"Different? You're not comfortable with our current methods?" Kadann prodded.

"I didn't SAY that." Barnaby snapped back, "It's just... just..."

Just that Gornash knew they were all squeamish over shooting about a dozen people in cold blood. This, he would concede, was fair game to be uneasy about. Even he would admit that it had unnerved him when Kadann had announced they'd be taking hostages, months ago, and then when, just before they started the ritual, he told them the whole point behind the hostages was to just kill them.

"_Please, I don't want to die."_

"_Momma. Don't let them..."_

"_What do you want? Is this about money or..."_

"_Stop them! Somebody, stop them!"_

"_I've never done anything..."_

Gornash kept his chin tucked to stop himself from feeling too ill – his nerves were starting to get the better of him.

"Just that our guest might develop a tolerance?" Kadann suggested, "Just that it might be enough of a risk that we should try reaching beyond what we're FAMILIAR with? Isn't that what you were about to say?"

And that was the sound of Gornash realizing that the other Prophets, for whatever reason, were also having some trouble disassociating what they were doing with what had happened to each of them in the Mines.

But that was stupid – for one thing, it wasn't even close to the same magnitude. They'd been just seven out of god knew how many. The boy who was their prisoner now? Just one. And the only one, at that. Everything they were doing was actually really tame – the boy wasn't going to lose his eyes or half his brain, or whatever other procedures they'd been through. And it was only temporary – it's not like they planned on keeping him until he died, either at their hands or just from natural causes.

'Though, granted, little Darth Mammon or whatever his codename was over here has been pretty vague on if this boy will be released, at all.' Gornash noted to himself.

But the most critical difference was that they'd been all interred from prejudices – because the Empire had determined their existence was a wrong, in and of itself. They hadn't done anything. And, maybe this boy hadn't done anything, but he WAS guilty. He was descended from the Empire, a part of it. They might have been used as pawns, and were now using that same Empire for their own gain, but they weren't a part of it. That evil wasn't in their blood, like it was for this boy.

Yes. That's why Gornash was doing this. So, maybe he wasn't perfect. He could live with that, just so long as he got to strike back – maybe take a little bit of his own enemy down with him.

"Yeah." Barnaby mumbled, obviously not really meaning it – or, possibly, understanding Kadann's second meaning and also trying to hold down any food in his stomach at the implication.

"Well then, since our dear Darth's Beelz and Phegor are so concerned with our means, they shall start preparing the tools for the next round – simply sterilizing the old ones seems too high a risk, so giving everyone a chance to be creative with the methods will solve two problems with one solution." Kadann straightened, giving Tilus and Barnaby each a friendly pat on their shoulders.

Gornash could see the two assigned with this task – which, in all honesty, was in rather poor taste, even in the extreme circumstances – squirming with disgust. It was visible in their eyes. Tilus was quaking, every centimeter of his flabby body sending ripples through the area around it, as though his flesh would slide off his bones at any minute. Barnaby's shoulder shuddered like the mere touch from Kadann had sent a shockwave through his bones.

Regardless, both of them shuffled to their feet and disappeared through the door, obviously wanting to be as far away from Kadann as they could.

"Prophets Mammar and Eris -" He turned to Noma and Asmod, whom were considerably calmer, but both jumped to hear their false identities, as though it were an alarm that awoke them to a fire that was just breaths from engulfing them, "Your task will be to select the next batch of tributes. Up the number to one and a half times as many."

Tributes. Such a neat, little word. What did it even mean? It was small and innocuous, saying nothing about how many, or what they would mean, or even the fact that it might refer so something that might have been a person, once. Something that would cease to be a person with so much as a slice from the carotid to the jugular, or with the simple press of a finger on a blaster pistol whose barrel was rested against the base of their skull. Tribute needn't be a man or woman, girl or boy, Human or non-Human.

But... when he thought about it, those same words had described them, once. They had been, for all intents and purposes, tributes, once.

"And Mister Gornash." Gornash's head jerked up. The top of his head, the portion of his scalp hidden by his hair and hood, tingled with cold. He felt each hair stand, then the sensation faded into numbness as the cold traveled down the sides of his head to his ears, then cheeks, then the skin hidden under this unclean, beastly beard, "If you would be so good as to fetch our guest of honor."

"Certainly." Gornash nodded his head, then turned to leave. The cold and numbness that had rested on his skin was starting to seep through, into his bones and skull and brain.

"I trust you have no complaints." Kadann prodded, "You were auspiciously silent through this discussion."

Well, of course Gornash had been. That had been his role from day one, among this group comprised of freaks, obnoxious protestors, and inflated egos. He had always been quiet and calm, in control. And that wasn't going to change – Kadann couldn't make him say anything he didn't want to, and he wasn't going to let this manipulative creep put words into his mouth like he had the other prophets.

"None." He said, shortly.

"That's good." It sounded so pleasant, almost agreeable, "And yet, I worry that perhaps you might be enjoying this, just a little too much."

Gornash's eyes crawled back in their sockets, of their own accord. What was that supposed to mean? That almost sounded like Kadann... knew. There was no way he could know. And, anyway, what did Gornash care? He wasn't a part of this scheme, he wasn't just a pawn in this pathetic grab for power. He didn't need approval or Kadann to order him... but it did bring up the question, if Kadann could know about this, what else was he able to do?

"There's no need to worry." Was all Gornash said.

Kadann said nothing and Gornash didn't dare turn around to see what kind of look Kadann was giving him. He could feel the man's eyes boring into his back, waiting for a further response. Looking for something... just looking...

So, Gornash didn't wait for him to answer, and walked out the door. He wasn't going to be controlled – he was in control, and if he couldn't keep that... then...

* * *

It was funny how bizarre things could look if you weren't paying that much attention. For example, Ken noticed, there was a blur of black and gray that seemed to be moving, but not in motion. It spun and bobbed up and down, and from side to side, then seemed to split into two and danced around each other.

"I told you. It would have been so easy to just get it over with." The creature was back, but Ken couldn't see him. For that matter, he couldn't really see anything. He had images that were going past him, but nothing that actually looked like it was something – rather like dreaming.

What was seeing, anyway? It was a function of the brain to build an interpretation of the physical world in response to reception of visible light, a function conducted by the eyes, the optic nerves connected to them, and the visual cortex of the brain. It also had some functions in psychology, such as interpreting objects to be one thing that they were not, or associating shapes and images with different images.

"And the pain would have been so quick, too." One such case was optical illusions – visually perceiving objects differently than they were defined by objective reality. There were both physiological explanations and cognitive explanations, but Ken didn't know what those were because the texts were a different level of study and he hadn't had the chance to read them, yet.

"But you were so sure you knew better. So sure that things would be okay. And look what's happened because of you." Maybe that's what he was seeing – maybe there was really only one shade of gray in the room, but the lighting made it appear like there was more than one. Ken felt his eyes moving in his skull – like the bulbs had thousands of tiny strings, holding them tightly to the insides of their sockets, and he felt each one strain and tug, both at itself and the inside of his eyelids as they moved.

"First there was what happened on Tatooine. Then, there was that woman on Bespin. And on Duro. And now, this. Just because you're here." Feeling – that was another sensation. The perception of the brain receiving tactile information about the outside world, caused by the reception of nerve endings in the skin sending messages to the brain. There were other kinds of feelings, such as being able to feel pain, which could be superficial or have deeper sensations from different locations of the nerves.

Ken let his eyes blink and tried to think about the science behind the sensations. Right now, there wasn't much. He could feel a distinct pattern of a grid pressing on his face, and one of his shoulders, and down his arm, side, and leg, and there was a strange warmth spreading from the pattern it etched on his skin. The rest of him was so cold, he didn't feel a thing.

"More people are going to die, you know. They aren't going to stop. You can't stop them, you can't even save yourself." Why was he so cold? The typical explanation would mean that the atmosphere around him was too cold – Humans were an endothermic organism, so he would generally be warm, even if he felt cold. But he didn't. He felt cold, but it went beyond just skin feeling the chill in the air – it permeated him, filled him, sunk through every cell in his body, like every cell in his bloodstream was filled with ice and was carrying the chill to every part of him.

Ken focused on his fingers, and made one of them bend. Moving parts of his body was a science, too – a contraction of muscles, pulling on his bones, to make the various pieces flex.

If he didn't think about the science – the cold, clinical, logic and reason, the facts, the detached and unemotional side of an equation – if Ken couldn't focus on that...

"_Why are you doing this?"_

"_Let us go!"_

"_I have a child to care for, you sick freaks!"_

"_Help us! Please, save us..."_

"_No, please... stop!"_

If he didn't think about all the technicals... Ken thought he'd go crazy.

There was a humming that resonated from the floor, like a little voice that was whispering directly into his ear, hissing out everything about the station. Ken could hear a faint, semi-rhythmic clicking in the hum – that could only come from a... a... what was the word for it? Ken forgot. The blurry images started to melt together, the cold numbness in his skin started to recede and the spots that burned on it started to throb.

And... and... how he'd gotten those... what had happened... and after...

Ken shut his eyes, breathing out and trying not to breathe back in, hoping it would knock him back out. He had to think about something else. He had to think...

"You're not going to last here – it's just a matter of time, and the longer it takes, the more people you'll take with you. Why not just make it easier?" What made up a Human body? Oxygen, atomic weight 15.999; carbon, atomic weight 12.011; hydrogen, atomic weight 1.008; nitrogen, atomic weight 14.007; calcium, atomic weight 40.078... calcium... calcium... what was the next element? What came next, in terms of percentage?

Ken found himself taking in a gulp of air – the element that made the largest percentage in a Human body, oxygen – and there was a stab that ran through his lungs, like a needle had pierced into his chest and injected the alveoli with liquid nitrogen and it burned everything it touched, and everything that touched that. His whole chest screamed with a searing pain. It made him cough, trying to will it away.

"It's only going to get worse – and what you're going through is nothing. Think of what Skywalker's going through, having to experience this like all Jedi do!"

Luke. Ken opened his eyes, and could see, just barely out of focus, his own hand, pressed so firmly into the grating on the floor that his skin might have been melded to it. Luke was still alive. Luke was able to feel this. Luke was...

"Skywalker's here because YOU are."

There was a new sound – one that was closer, more immediate than anything. Closer and louder than the humming of the space station, stronger and sharper than the creature's voice. It was a click, then the swish of something metallic scraping smoothly against something else. Ken felt, more by the way his hair ruffled than on his skin, the push of air that came.

Door. That was the sound, and feeling, of a door opening. Then, the thudding tap that made the floor shudder. Footsteps.

"There's somebody else in here." He could still hear the creature's voice, but that didn't seem nearly as important anymore. Especially when he felt something grab him by the hair, prying him wholly off the floor so forcefully that it honestly felt as though his skin was being torn clean off. Ken's eyes moved on their own, following the increasingly sharp lines outlining the figure holding him. It was like looking up a pillar, trying to see the top when you had no idea where it was. There was the hood, overshadowing the Prophet's face, but his eyes – green as envy – bored out and seemed to connect directly into Ken's brain.

The numbness – the coldness – dropped away so rapidly that it made Ken dizzy. Every centimeter of his skin, each spot that had felt a needle or brand or electrode, the places that had felt detached and nonexistent, sprung back into their full, real, shocking pain.

It wasn't even the reminder of how he'd fallen into this nightmare, nor the reality dropping back on his head. It was...

"_You're not sorry enough."_

"You couldn't even save your own sorry hide." This Prophet, more than any of the others, had shown him how weak he was. He'd taken Ken's own uselessness, his own helplessness, and thrown it so heavily into Ken's face, imprinted it onto his brain like the scar left by a burn, that it couldn't be denied anymore.

More than anything, this Prophet had exposed Ken to the most brutal, harsh reality – that he knew nothing, and there was nothing he could do, and no amount of training, effort, or anything could have prepared him for this. That he had no power over any of this.

More than any of the others, Ken was afraid of this man.

"...No..." The words came out, beyond his control. He was begging, pleading, and he didn't even know what for, "Please, don't..."

The hand that had him gripped by the hair shoved his face against the wall. Ken felt a special, unique ache in his back – one that screamed from his spine that his body wasn't meant to be bent like this. With his nose pressed into the wall, Ken couldn't see what came next, but he did hear the metallic buzz of a tiny contraption. It grew louder, and finally loudest as Ken felt something vibrate against the skin of his scalp. A stripe of cold air breezed over his ear, growing wider as the vibrating tool moved back and forth over his head. Even though it was harmless – painless even – Ken couldn't stop himself from sobbing, loudly, out of sheer terror.

"Shut up." The hand clinging onto the remainder of his hair shook him, pressing his face even flatter against the cold metal of the wall. Ken's breath hitched, but silenced. And, when it was over, the Prophet's large, long fingered hand secured around his arm and pulled. Ken's limbs jerked, as though they were all aware that he was supposed to be fighting, but none of them could find the strength to fight back. His arms were too limp and useless, and his legs couldn't find the way to bend properly. Even his toes flexed, trying to hook into the grate on the floor as he was half-dragged, half-led down the hall.

"One more time, now." He could hear the creature's voice taunting him. Could the Prophet hear it, too? Or was Ken finally going insane? Or was this all not real?

Ken felt everything around him spinning. He couldn't even properly see, anymore. It was all going back to that blurry, surreal, nonexistent mess of grays. He was only barely aware that he could hear any of the voices around his head, anymore.

"Mister Gornash, I thought we agreed not to be too extreme?" He was dreaming. This all had to be a long, impossible dream. After all, he'd met famed heroes of the Alliance, flown with Captain Solo, trained with Luke Skywalker, lived with, ate meals with, shared bunks with the soldiers... he was just a kid, and that was just a childish fantasy.

"The scalp is a sensitive part of the body we couldn't access before. This is perfectly within reason." How else did any of this make sense? He'd seen things that simply weren't possible – done things that weren't possible.

"They're going to torture you! Wake up, at least realize what you're in for!" He was hallucinating a talking ape creature that only he could see and hear. How was that NOT a dream?

"Shouldn't we at least have a prisoner's smock waiting for once we're done? You all know he's gonna go into shock, sooner or later."

Dee-Jay and HC had always said his imagination was overactive.

* * *

_Luke had been trying to meditate, hopefully formulate a plan. It was already difficult enough, with every minute adding to his mounting unease, both to his and Ken's fates. Being consistently pulled into a dreamscape like this was not making it any easier, especially with what Luke was seeing now._

"_This's been happening on and off for a while now." The other version of Triclops pointed out, as the real Triclops was bent over a figure on the floor, examining it with a cold, clinical precision._

_What made Luke particularly anxious was that, when Triclops sat up, Luke could see very clearly that the figure was Ken – or, he assumed, some representation of Ken's mind, or something, as the boy was not reacting to any of the three of them._

"_As far as I can tell..." Triclops mused, a distinct wrinkle appearing directly between his eyes, "He has gone into shock... but then..." Luke extended a hand, unsure how safe it would be to try and touch Ken – especially given the strange logic that seemed to work in all of Triclops' dreams, if maybe Luke trying to help would cause more damage than he could undo, or if it just wouldn't work at all._

"_...Then again?" He prodded. Triclops kept flexing his fingers, as though he wanted to clench them into fists._

"_...My knowledge of physiology and psychology is strictly informal, and incomplete at best. This might be Kendal's physical status being translated into the mind for our benefit, it might be metaphorical, or it might be his mental state that, in turn, is causing physiological symptoms..." He honestly looked and sounded quite distressed at being so uncertain – more so than even Luke was, "...And, in any case, I am not a professional, in either instance..."_

_Luke cast Triclops a glance – one long enough to see a hardened look in his eyes, one which might have been resignation, anger, nostalgia, or some combination of the three. So, Luke did the one thing he knew he could do well, and forced himself to relax. Even if he couldn't solve the problem in it's entirety, now, it would give him insight as to what he could do – if he could reach Ken like this, or if he could protect him, directly, or how he was supposed to stop the Prophets if that was the only way._

"_It'll be alright." He murmured, partly to himself, and partly to reassure the silently fretting Triclops. If Triclops had this ability – perhaps he could use that, in his own way, to help, but that would only work if he wasn't panicking._

"_That's nice and all, but I think I've got us another problem." Luke's attention was diverted, yet again, and he and the real Triclops found themselves beholding the most surreal image Luke ever thought he'd see: The sight of the second Triclops off in the background with yet a third version of Triclops in a headlock, pinned to the floor. It was such a bizarre image that, had the circumstances not been so dire, Luke was quite sure he would have found it amusing._

_It also simultaneously shocked him and didn't surprise him in the least – after all, he was already sitting in a pliable space inside a dream and had had two conversations with a person called Triclops, whom was Ken's biological father, as well as an alternative personality to that man. One didn't see much stranger things than that, so a third personality was honestly not all that surprising._

_But it did stun Luke how utterly and completely different this personality was. The real Triclops was quiet and polite, if curt and standoffish, but still well-intentioned. The other version of him was rude and uncouth, but also with a standard of decency and principles he followed – rather like Han in that aspect._

_This one, though – Luke could sense the malice rolling off of him. It was dark and twisted, and even if Luke didn't probe into the Force, he could still see an arrogance to this persona, a wickedness that hung on his face like it was woven into his skin. Even though this third version was literally being restrained by the second Triclops, he was still smirking up at his captive audience, clearly enjoying their reactions._

"_Don't look so surprised – didn't the two of you used to refer to me as Mister Personality?" He snapped, sending the original Triclops a look, "You'd even had it all figured out – that I was doing all the hard work for you while you two kept trying to get us in trouble."_

_Luke glanced between the three different incarnations of Triclops' – what was he talking about? What kind of background was there that Luke wasn't seeing? What was he still too naïve to understand?_

"_Yes, yes – we know. You were the one who told his High and Wrinkled-ness about all the things we saw, and all those dreams we had, and we're oh so grateful for all you did that kept us from being harassed... y'know, even more than we already were, with all the torture and experiments and shit." The other Triclops snarled, which elicited a bark from the third._

"_Harassed? I was the only reason we were left ALIVE, you realize! We were put in the Mines – the place the Empire sent the people who were 'undesirable', sent people there for no other reason than to have them killed off. It would only be a matter of time before our number came up – and if we were gonna have any shot of staying alive, we had to give HIM a reason to keep us around. And I was the one who did that. Get it? We were the ranats in the maze – the ranats do something wrong and they get a shock. The ranats do something right and they get the cheese. You guys got us the shocks. I got us out of there alive. Who do you think was doing it right?"_

_Luke felt his eyes widen without his permission. Triclops' eyes did the same, going as wide and round as perfect circles. The second Triclops responded with a very different approach._

"_You think that just barely getting by is the same as doing it right?" He demanded, and when this new Triclops just smirked, the other wrenched his arm, "Alright then, Shit-for-Brains, why don't you tell us how you're doing it right THIS time?"_

_The third Triclops sneered, then grimaced when the Triclops restraining him twisted him by the elbow._

"_Alright, alright – I'm helping the Prophets. Once they've gotten their ducks in a row, then I'll be able to get back on track and get us back to good." This was unsettling to hear – maybe because Luke could guess what that 'track' would entail. But even worse was how the other Triclops responded, still._

"_And how, pray tell, are you 'helping' them? And, while we're at it, you don't really need this arm, do you?" Luke saw Triclops' jaw drop open – rather as though he intended on saying something, but no words came out. The other two wrestled as the second Triclops twisted the third's arm at the shoulder, as though to wrench the limb out of it's socket, but any threat of harm or injury was obviously a bluff – this third Triclops was still smirking and took his time answering, very aware that all present weren't about to let him off until he'd answered their questions._

"_Well, first off, they needed prisoners – so, I helped them to intersect a passenger ship. And now, they've got the sacrifices they need."_

_Even though it was just a dream – even though he wasn't really there, didn't even really have a body to feel, pain or pleasure – Luke really did feel dizzy, like all the blood was draining out of his head and straight into the pit of his stomach._

"_...Sacrifices..."_

* * *

It wasn't being called a freak that bothered Tilus – he'd been called worse. He'd been called a punk, son-of-a-traitor, a pig, a Red Pig... and that was before the Mines. He'd been called so much worse – if he'd even been addressed, at all. So, really, being cursed and sworn at was nothing new.

No, the real hard part was, no matter what pretty words Kadann used to excuse it away, that they were basically doing the same thing. The people they'd captured had done nothing wrong, and the only reason they were here was to die. The only difference was it would be quick, almost immediate. There was no prolonging the pain or humiliation, but that only made it worse for them.

It also didn't help that Gornash – what had that old Copy-Cat been thinking – just had to shave the boy's head. What's next – were they going to tattoo him with a number, too?

Tilus sent a glance over his shoulder, hoping it was quick enough that none of the others saw it. Why'd they have to have this setup, like some kind of altar you'd find in an ancient temple where they'd... he didn't know, cut out their brains or burn them alive or something? And the boy... he was just laying there, not moving, not responding to anything – just like Copy-Cat Gornash had said he might, because he was still so out of it – no screams, no twitching, not even any blinking. Even the boy's breathing was shallow.

Of course, even the shallow breaths were very visible, with how skinny this kid was. And he was skinny – barely more than skin and bones. Not as skinny as THEY'D ever gotten, of course, not like he'd been starved for weeks on end...

But still...

Every inch of Tilus' skin and insides crawled – he still ached with the hunger. No matter how much he ate, no matter what, no matter how he tried to forget, the hollowness inside him seemed to grow with each second, as though that emptiness was gobbling up everything around it and expanding like a black hole.

Tilus loaded another charge into his blaster and dropped another one – this one a hefty male Human with quite dark skin. Even if Kadann – the Supreme Low Prophet, that was a better title – was right and this got the Emperor back and they were all able to rule the whole galaxy by having him wrapped around their fingers, it would never fill the emptiness.

* * *

"_It's like a beacon – Skywalker, you know how Jedi can feel those things through the Force, right?" The new Triclops went on, as though disgusted with their unimpressed reaction. Unimpressed was hardly the word to describe Luke's emotions, but this was also considering that being impressed was not always a good thing, "It's the same thing. Enough people die, and it resounds to any Sith Lord who wants to crawl their way back over."_

_Luke closed his eyes – again, a feat that he wasn't sure how he managed, given that he didn't even have a body or eyes to close – but it was just as useful as trying to block an image out of his mind's eye. The other Triclops kept talking, his voice inescapable, penetrating, poisonous, this persona speaking with such slow delight that he was clearly relishing it._

"_And the second part is the kid – once they've got the attention of a Dark Jedi, they need a place for him to reside. Of course, they can't just straight up kill him – a body that doesn't work is no better than none at all. So, you take a person who's pliable enough, open to being persuaded, and... unseat them."_

* * *

Killing people actually wasn't too hard. It was really quite easy, to be honest. And, for someone like Barnaby, who rather wanted to just get this over so he could skulk away and take a nap – or, at least, lay down and pretend he wasn't awake – that suited him just fine. It was a very simple, very mechanical process. Certain parts of the body were necessary for it to work, so all they had to do was block them, cut off the communication between the body and it's necessary parts, and the rest was taken care of for them.

It also wasn't too bad dealing with all of the screaming. The prisoners would beg, plead, ask what they'd done wrong, cry, try to fight, try to buy their way out, try to argue or reason their way out. Oh, it had a familiarity to it – one that would have bothered Barnaby if he'd stopped to think about it. If he'd thought about it, he would have heard a similarity to the screaming he'd heard in the Mines. The cries he'd hear from adults who'd been separated from their children, or children separated from their parents. The groans of other prisoners who were so overburdened with their pains – some who lost their nails and teeth from the scurvy, some whose bones would break at the lightest touch, some who couldn't breathe from the smog in the air. The ravings of those who wanted escape so badly, they were willing to sell their sanity for it.

It was those horrors – the sounds, the smells, and his own misery – that had kept him awake, every second of every day in those Mines. He would lay awake on his cot, next to the four other prisoners – it had turned to three, one day – listening, smelling, tasting the awfulness of the place on his tongue. And it was the memories that stole even a single night of peaceful sleep from him, since. It was as though the Mines were determined to rob him of even the simple pleasure of oblivion.

That's why he didn't think about the similarities of the others. Thinking was too hard. Thinking hurt too much. Apathy and melancholy were easier – not fun, or pleasant by any means, but they helped. He could get by. He didn't need to care. He didn't need to hurt – he just had to let everything go without a thought.

No, what bothered Barnaby was the boy. He wasn't reacting at all, and he was the closest to anything that Barnaby remembered. He wasn't screaming or pleading or anything, anymore. He was perfectly silent – just the way Barnaby was. The way he HAD been.

He was so weak and pathetic. Not even aware of what was going on – or, maybe he was aware, but just didn't care. Maybe he was just locked up inside his own head, or maybe there was just nothing there to react, anymore. He found himself hating him.

He wanted a reaction. He wanted this to be horrific, for it to imprint itself like a scar, for it to never leave, even in dreams. He wanted to make this so permanent that he could never escape, no matter how far he ran away.

"Oh god... oh god, whatever I did... please, I'm sorry!" This was from a female of a very Humanoid species – maybe not full Human, but close enough. She was crying. Her breasts were far too swollen for her frame – she'd probably become a mother recently.

Barnaby shot through her spine. And kept shooting, the marks blackening any inch of her skin that he could see.

* * *

"_All the incoming Sith Lord has to do is get in and take over. It should be child's play for any Sith worth his salt." The third Triclops went on. Luke willed himself to think – if he couldn't block this out, there had to be a way to fight back. To silence this horrible speech. Or to overcome it, if he couldn't stop this Triclops._

"_So, you plan to do what with this?" He finally managed to ask. If this was still a form of Triclops, it was still also a version of the man who was Ken's father. There had to be some humanity still left – something that still felt compassion..._

_...That still loved his son. There had to be._

"_If this works, then Ken will die." He reasoned, hoping that he didn't sound as terrified as he felt – hoping that the words came out with urgent pathos, a desperation that called for rational, reasonable response._

_The real Triclops shook – apparently, this concept was not a recent revelation to him – and the second Triclops grimaced, also seeming familiar with this possibility. Neither seemed terribly pleased to acknowledge it. The third Triclops, however, seemed both aware and accepting of this._

"_You don't GET it, do you?" He snapped._

* * *

Thinking back on it, he supposed this shouldn't have surprised him. His codename had been Darth Noma, and he was told to assume the identity of a Prophet called 'Eris'. He'd never minded shouting or arguing, he'd learned that the freakish time he'd spent in the Mines had elevated his body temperature, to the point that he could actually channel it to cause combustion in other things, and he'd learned how to do that, and, of course, he never had any problems with swearing until blood gushed from the ears of whoever he was shouting at.

Eris had started off being disturbed at the idea of having to kill people. Killing them – no, slaughtering them, like they were just animals. It was the same thing, all over again. It was seeing that – seeing it, and being powerless to stop it, being powerless to protect himself, or his wife, or even being able to see her before they'd dragged her away, at being unable to stop the doctor that had strapped him down, being unable to do a SINGLE, GOD-DAMN thing – that had made him so furious, back in the Mines. And, they were supposed to do it, themselves, now? And that runt, Kadann, had smiled and whispered and twisted words until he didn't know up from down to make him – FUCKING MAKE HIM – do it, against his will?

Eris had thought that he might scream from how infuriating it was.

But then, he'd bashed open the first. He hadn't even bothered with the blaster charge – just used the butt of the handle to smash the prisoner's head open. The blood had come out, gloriously, like the debris and flames in an explosion, the sparks in fireworks, the droplets in a fountain spraying water, in a wonderful, burning crimson. He could see the pure white of their bone as it poked out – but stained red from the color of the emergency lights they had, lighting up the room. The mass of their brain, soft and pliable, almost seemed to resemble the shape of a cloud in an explosion. It was all so red, either like the red of a burning flame or the red of molten alloys or the red of glowing embers.

It felt... good...

He'd savored it. To be able to move, to DO something. For his arms to swing so openly, for him to smash something with so much force. It was like Eris was tasting some food that he'd never known existed – some miracle pill that had everything he needed, that he ever would need – and the taste melting wonderfully on his tongue and the feeling electrifying him as it went down.

He didn't want to like it. He'd been better than this – this was what moral people called 'being sick'. He hadn't been sick when he went in. He was a good person. He was, he was, he WAS...

But... he was so enraged. It still burned his insides to be so powerless, to having been so helpless, to be unable to refuse Kadann and being wrangled, like a bird with it's wings cut off, but still being fed to grow fat, by the same Empire who'd taken everything else away from him... So, his arms and hands moved, the stab that ran through his muscles as he felt the impact of the beatings invigorating him, making the fire in his stomach churn and burn higher.

The boy had come in, fighting. He'd started off, trying to shout and scare them. Of course, Kadann had threatened Skywalker, and the fight had gone right out of him, like the boy had no spine – no spirit – at all. Eris had wanted to scream at him to have more balls than just give up from minute one.

But he couldn't. So, he let his hands and arms scream for him, wailing on the prisoners, and letting their blood run all the faster to urge his own on.

* * *

A/N: I feel so unclean after writing that passage.

* * *

"_How, exactly, has looking out for that kid done any of you – EVEN you, Skywalker – any good? For every step of the way, every precaution each of you were taking to protect him, it did nothing but bring you trouble. He's too helpless to take care of himself, too weak to watch your back in a fight, too stupid to tell what's going on or see trouble before it comes to get him... tell me, where were YOU going to draw the line of 'Not worth it'?" The third Triclops no longer sounded amused or pleased with himself. In fact, he sounded impatient – as though this should have been very obvious._

_Luke felt something in his stomach churn. He felt sick. He wanted to shout, or to react out and choke this freakish apparition._

"_Nobody is 'not worth it'." He managed to reply, still with his eyes closed as though that would somehow give him a greater insight in how to argue with this version of Triclops. He heard a scoff._

"_I'm going to call you on that – there are some people who are stronger, some who are smarter, some who can be useful in a war or just normal life, and some who you'd be better off just cutting your losses. And all of those people's lives aren't created equal."_

"_That's not true!" Luke's eyes snapped open, and for the first time in quite a few years, he felt a kind of fury unseating itself from deep in his soul and springing into full force. Peace? Calm? No, now was not the time to be rational, "All people's lives are precious, no matter what!" He reached out to put his hands round the new persona's neck, only stopped when the second version of Triclops pulled him back, still restraining, and shaking his head. It was a clear enough command for Luke to stand down that he almost immediately felt his anger die._

_Almost._

"_Oh, really? You're a soldier – you've seen people get shot down for no good reason except be in the wrong place at the wrong time. People who needed to keep living – who others were depending on, even if it was just to do their jobs, and all it takes is a little blaster bolt and, suddenly, a whole mission would get screwed up and everyone gets blown to hell. You're seriously going to tell me that people's lives are ALL worth something? That's only as true as the people who assign value to it." The third Triclops rebutted, "Boy, remember when the kid was born?"_

_Luke cast the original Triclops a look – he was sitting quite stiffly, and his eyes seemed to have frozen in their wideness._

"_Just by being born, that kid made such a big stir in the Mines that his mother was executed, and he almost dragged us down, with her. In fact, if it weren't for that woman fooling the Kommandant into thinking it was HIS kid, all of us would've been offed before you could blink. And you remember what happened to the Medic who'd also had some bad luck in those Mines! How can you seriously tell me that all people's lives are equal when you saw THAT? And you're... what? You're trying to SAVE him? What's WRONG with you? Why not just ask for a nice glass of poison with your next meal? It'll be quicker – and that's where we're headed anyway, if you try to keep this up!"_

_The real Triclops' jaw dropped open, as though to argue, but no sound came out. It was as though his whole concept of language and vocabulary had been sucked right out of him. Even angry as he was, Luke couldn't find words to appropriately react to this speech – even some of his coarser swear words seemed too tame._

_The second Triclops' response was..._

"_I think you need to shut up." More brutal, as he accompanied these words with seizing the third Triclops by his forehead and, calmly and effectively, twisted his head clean off. Luke thought there would be blood or gore of some sort, but all that happened was the dissolution of the other persona, like seeing a computer program dissolving, byte by byte._

_This was also when the original Triclops started to scream. It shocked Luke back to his senses – the reasonable, rational senses that said to stay calm. Even when Triclops bent over and started to claw his head with his hands. Even when the second Triclops jumped, in alarm. Even when the floor started to warp and come apart._

"_Boy! Boy, cut it out. Seriously, this isn't funny!" The second Triclops tried shaking his original persona, sounding well and truly panicked. Luke forced himself to focus and observe precisely what was happening – as far as he could see, it was rather like the dreamscape was starting to... well, crumble._

"_Skywalker!" The second Triclops shouted – it seemed like it wouldn't matter, but for some reason, it sounded like it was necessary, "Get out of here! I'll handle this – just get out!"_

_Luke pondered how he was supposed to do that, for just a moment, but..._

He found himself blinking up at the ceiling of the cell he'd been put in. Frustrated, Luke kicked the wall – the only thing close enough that he was free to abuse – and tried to sit back up. He'd been so close – he could have figured something out, if he hadn't been pushed out of that dream; he could have helped Triclops protect Ken, if he hadn't been cut off; he could have...

Luke forced himself to breathe and calm down. Being angry or having a temper fit wouldn't help. He wanted to do it, but he knew it wouldn't help. What would help was if he relaxed. If he put himself at peace, if he could think, if he could feel.

This was also made difficult by the fact that, now that he was awake, he very much felt the shock that was obviously coming from the deaths of those people – complete strangers, whom he couldn't even see and never would. He'd never be able to put names to faces, know who they had been, and what kinds of lives they'd lived.

Breathe in.

All he'd ever know is how frightened they were in these last few moments, how much they agonized at the reality that their time was coming to an end, and how quickly they disappeared. It rung through his skull like the tolling of a bell that, for no apparent reason, fell silent before each ring could be complete.

Breathe out.

This had to end. That was all Luke could think. He had to end this. He reached out, looking for something to grasp, and found himself presented with an image – a pair of eyes, green as sin, with scars just under the lower corners. He pulled, drawing in whatever had brought that image in closer – if he was right, then whatever was on the other end was their only chance.

* * *

With the session over, Kadann subtly dismissed each of the other Prophets to go about their own business for a good half-hour before their next move could be brought to fruition. It hadn't been a good round – the boy hadn't responded to any of the measures they took, and Jedgar would have blamed it on the others for being lackluster in their efforts, except that, an hour into the session, there was distinct evidence of the boy having a stroke. It had taken some work, but they'd managed to get the boy's heart started again, and a quick scan to be sure his brain was still functioning properly. Still, it had been enough that Kadann had concluded they wouldn't be able to have much of an effect for a while.

The chubby one and the one with the lazy eye had skittered all too gladly out of the room, the one with the braided beard and the fire-spitter disappeared more casually, and the only other tall prophet carried the boy back to his cell.

Which left Jedgar and Kadann alone. That was fine with him – Jedgar didn't like those other Prophets, not since the beginning.

At best, they were stupid and blundering. At worst... well, Jedgar had plenty of suspicions. Kadann was too trusting, too blind. He just didn't see what they were doing – the shifty looks the two stupid, lazy ones were wearing, or how they were slinking around with their tails between their legs. They were up to something, thinking about trying to double-cross them, about trying to undermine Kadann and everything he was doing. Or the two over-enthusiastic ones. Jedgar knew what they were about – they were probably plotting how best to take control for themselves, how to ruin everything else that he and Kadann had worked for.

And especially that green-eyed one. Whether he was trying to screw the plan up just for the sake of stopping them from getting what they wanted – what they deserved – or if he was going to make a bid for the power, himself, Jedgar wasn't sure. But he didn't like him. He couldn't say why, but he did – something about that upstart's face and attitude just rubbed him the wrong way.

Jedgar knew what he was doing. He wasn't like the others. In the Mines, there had been two types of prisoners – those who were being tried and those who were being punished. Jedgar knew what he was – before the Mines, he'd been a leader in his community. Everyone knew that, if they had any kind of problem or question, he was the minister to come to. There was nothing he couldn't do, no problem he couldn't fix. He wasn't sure if he would call it the Force, but there was definitely something else out there, a higher power that nobody could see that was looking out for him, and because of that, he was able to do things no mere mortal could ever hope.

And then, the round-ups had come. Anyone and everyone within the community had been herded into the transports and taken them to the Mines. And, really, Jedgar could see why. He knew what had been wrong with those other people – every little detailed crime or offense. There were other people, too – half-breeds, heretics, cripples, gyps, homosexuals... all disgusting, disease-ridden degenerates. They'd been what had brought the fall of the economy, brought the Clone Wars, brought the Empire. The Mines had been their punishment.

But not he – no, HE had been sent there as a trial. The galaxy was testing him, waiting to see if he faltered, if he was strong enough. And he had been – he was here to prove it, because he'd been strong enough, worthy enough, and the real Jedgar had appeared, one day, and selected him.

He'd been chosen. He was superior.

Of course, Jedgar knew this. But still...

"You do realize that they're planning something." He pointed out to Kadann. He was just a Bimm – probably too dim-witted to see what was going on right over his nose – but did have a gift for managing and manipulating. Jedgar could have done it himself, but he hadn't felt like it. And, anyway, the important part was to keep everything running smoothly until he was ready.

"Now, I think that might be a little harsh." The midget murmured, tapping his forefingers together. Jedgar grunted, disdainfully.

"They've been acting strangely – you've seen it, right? You say it's harsh when you know they're at the very least, getting cold feet?" He pushed. Kadann shrugged, carelessly. How could he be so unconcerned when they were risking being sabotaged by the least competent people on this ship?

"Even if that is true, it's of no consequence." Ah, yes – as much as Jedgar wanted to believe that, there was always the chance something would go wrong. Just a chance, but if that was all it came down to, he'd need to do everything he could to prevent it, "Besides, Mister Jedgar..."

Where did this dwarf get off addressing him by name? Even if it was a fake one... well, it's not like it mattered – he was good enough to be put out as the real one. Given a chance, he could probably defeat the real Sith he was substituting for.

"...Our guest is obviously in no state to continue with this method. Perhaps, now is the time to apply some subtlety."

Jedgar wondered, just for a moment, what the little runt meant by that, but Kadann was already shuffling off.

"When I come back, I'll have coordinates for the Lost City. We can discuss the commitment of the other Prophets while en route."

* * *

After leaving their still unresponsive prisoner in his cell, Gornash found himself following his feet to where they lead him. It was increasingly unnerving how little control he had over his own body. It was all the more unnerving when he stopped walking and found himself facing the cell door, behind which they had stashed Skywalker.

Granted, Gornash knew that he wasn't a Jedi – he wasn't even naturally Force-sensitive. He could even remember, however vaguely, hearing once that the Jedi were like a kind of sorcerer, and thus, unclean. Just standing here, he felt like his skin was crawling. He'd aided Skywalker, at first. Mostly because he wanted to bait Jedgar and Kadann – because he didn't want them to get what they wanted. Kadann was a little kriffer who hadn't felt any consequence for the things he'd done, and Jedgar was so full of himself that Gornash suspected that the taller man could vomit and a second version of himself would rise from it. But that didn't mean he was going to just help Skywalker out, for no reason at all. It would rub off on him.

Gornash let a hand reach up and feel the mass of hair growing from his chin.

"_May none of my people adorn their faces with hair. That is for the beasts."_

And from that, to his eyes, running a finger over the scars extending from his lower eyelids. To the eyes that gave him such freakish abilities.

_The mask, the dark cloak and cape, the sound of harsh, mechanized breathing. And the absolutely chilling presence of a force more powerful than he could ever hope to be._

Well... really... how much further to go?

Gornash lifted a hand and let it hover over the door's switch. He wasn't a Jedi – at least, not of his own will. But, if one were to talk about will, was it possible to have the powers like a Jedi and not believe in their Force? To be forced to be unclean? But he wasn't – he WASN'T. And, for that matter, what did he care about such things – even his mother hadn't been terribly strict about attending synagogue, he'd been too young for him to remember all of it, and it had been more than twenty years since he'd been free enough...

Was he having doubts... because this was, without all the excuses and justifications and rationalizations, he knew this was wrong? That he was in the wrong to do this?

...Maybe he really was a bad person. For willingly ignoring it. For continuing and justifying it. For... for what he'd REALLY done. Maybe he was already unclean.

In that case... what could it really hurt?

Gornash pushed the button. The door slid open.

He wasn't surprised – not in the least, in fact – to find that Skywalker had regained consciousness and had wriggled his way into a sitting position. Also, not much to his surprise, that exact sitting position was one of a meditative kind of stance, back straight and legs folded. He hardly looked like anyone whom was restrained and imprisoned. He looked calm. He looked...

'Just like I am... Just like I'm not...'

Controlled.

This was stupid. Skywalker was the prisoner. Unarmed. Limited. Helpless. He was at Gornash's mercy. If Gornash wanted to, he could shoot him, or slice his head off with a lightsaber – the envy-colored one that he'd built after the Emperor's death, just like the others, purely for the sake of being able to look like real masters of the Dark Side.

'Just like the boy is. Like he was – able to see me, able to control me. That's why...'

"You did this, didn't you?" He demanded. He could just see it – he could imagine how Skywalker's Jedi powers had the ability to force people to do what he willed them to do. Force-forced. Just like Kadann had done. Just like the Emperor had been able to do. No wonder he'd come to this cell, even though he wanted nothing more than to just get this over with.

Skywalker was still looking at him, calm and collected. It was unnerving. It was infuriating – nobody in a position like the one Skywalker was in should have the right to look so undisturbed, as though controlled by something more than just simple, Human will.

"I brought you here, you mean?" Skywalker asked, probably just to clarify, but to Gornash's ears, it bit like the stab of a blade, and when Gornash didn't deign to respond, Skywalker shook his head, "I'm not unhappy you came, but it was entirely up to you to come or not."

Gornash had heard rumors that Skywalker, before his fame as a Rebel pilot and hero, had come from a moisture farm on some backwater planet in the Outer Rim. From the man's simple way of speaking, Gornash believed it.

'He's a farmer boy, too.'

"You're lying." Gornash spat, "You made me come here – you were pulling on me, I FELT it."

"I reached out to you through the Force, and nothing more. I didn't control your actions, anymore than if I offered you a hand would I be controlling you to take it." Skywalker replied, voice seeming to grow calmer and his words growing more logical.

"Ha." But what did logic matter? This was obviously some kind of trick. It had to be, because if it wasn't...

Skywalker's gaze remained steady for another second, before he closed his eyes and lowered his chin. It was a small gesture, but enough that Gornash immediately felt relief upon the broken stare. Not much, but enough that he could tell the difference.

"I have something to ask you." Skywalker said, and it was truly unbelievable how his voice could grow even more calm, "But I won't demand that you hear me out. If you want, you may leave at any time. I won't force you to do anything."

Of course he could. After all, Gornash was the one that had the power in this scenario – it was so easy to forget, but Skywalker was the captive, and Gornash was the captor... except for the utter arrogance hanging over Skywalker. No, not arrogance, but it was SOMEthing. Whatever it was, it was as though it hadn't even occurred to Skywalker that they weren't comrades having a civil discussion with a mediator. One of them had power. The other one didn't.

...One of them...

"Like you didn't FORCE me to come here?" He demanded. Skywalker's eyes opened, briefly fixed on him, then shut again, "What else do you want me to do for you? What other Jedi-mind powers will you use on me if I don't? I don't want to hear it!"

Something fell in Skywalker's expression – rather like Gornash could see a sigh bubbling up, behind that face – before he shrugged. So casually. So relaxed. One would think he was just a guest, or that he'd graciously allowed himself to be taken prisoner.

It... aggravated Gornash. This wasn't how prisoners were supposed to be. It was supposed to be the other way around.

"I could tell you what I did to the boy." Gornash found himself saying, just trying to get a reaction out of this man. Anything – anything at all – be it disgust, anger, surprise, "He's got a whole line of scars up his spine now – along every nerve point on that boney body of his. There's burns on his ankles and wrists from the restraints we strapped him down with." What else... there had to be a more specific injury that would... oh, wait, "Kadann has a ring with the Imperial insignia on it. We heated it and branded that boy's forehead with it. He'll go around for the rest of his life, marked for it." Still, nothing. Then again, Skywalker's eyes were still closed and, as far as Gornash could tell, he was the kind of man whose emotions showed through his eyes. Maybe that's what kept them masked, "I made him scream. I made him cry and beg for mercy. I made him fear me."

Skywalker slowly, but still calmly, shook his head. It was almost as though to say 'Oh, you poor, sad, delusional man'. It made Gornash's blood boil that someone could deny him his control with something so simple.

"I could do the same thing to you – force you to do as I wanted, make you scream, make you fear me!"

Skywalker's eyes opened. And, instead of anger or disgust, or even contempt, Gornash saw something gentler – sympathy. His own captive was feeling SORRY for him.

"I must respectfully disagree." He said, "I don't doubt that you could hurt me, but I still have the freedom to choose how I react to it." That hurt – more than Gornash ever thought words could ever do, it cut into his gut, "All people do."

If Gornash had been feeling really sadistic – or, perhaps, if he were like Jedgar and too full of himself to care about good and evil – he would have taken this opportunity to spite back how weak that just made the boy. But now, Skywalker's words cut deeper. It stung like a personal insult, as though Skywalker were mocking him, as though he were taunting him with the unspoken accusation that, unlike Skywalker, he was weak and helpless.

And not in control.

"So, it's MY fault, then?" He demanded. Skywalker didn't respond, simply continued to watch him, politely puzzled, "You're saying I could have had control over what THEY made me? That it was my CHOICE to be this FREAK?"

Skywalker leveled his gaze. Gornash knew he'd been right – Skywalker was the kind of man to let his thoughts show through his eyes. And Gornash saw a very serious, very relaxed, but tightly controlled kindness in there. It terrified him, so much so that he stopped shouting.

"I don't pretend to understand what you've been through, but I can tell you that you're being used, now. Do you have control over what whoever's using you is doing? No. But you do have control over yourself – you can chose to let whatever happened to you shape you, or you can chose to be your own man." Used. Yes, that was a very good word for what Kadann was doing – to all of them, in fact. Not just Gornash, but each of the other Prophets. Gornash looked away, shaking. It really had changed, over the last few months, as though none of them existed as separate Prophets, but just members of the whole group – the organization, the systematic set of persons known as the First Church of the Dark Side.

He'd been used. And being used had made him into this creature – this unclean man – that had done such unforgivable things.

"I think you want to have control over who you are." Skywalker was still talking, but the words didn't sting anymore. Then again, Gornash wasn't looking, so maybe not meeting the calm gaze was what was affecting him. "I think you want to be a better person than this."

'What if I don't?' The thought arose in his mind before he could check himself, 'What if I can't? What if I'm so far gone that I'm not even able to want to be better, that all I want to be is THIS?'

He opened his mouth and scowled in Skywalker's direction, fully intending on telling him this – partly to spite him, partly out of real fear – and the words died in his throat. Skywalker's gaze hadn't budged, so much so that Gornash wondered if the man had even blinked, and he could see a sincerity that was so far gone, he'd almost forgotten what that was. The words weren't just a ploy for Skywalker to gain his trust, not just pretty words to loosen his guard, but something deeper, something more real.

Gornash looked away again. It had been so long since he'd heard anything quite like this – and here, it was coming from a complete stranger, from someone he was helping to hold captive, no less.

"_Don't let me go."_

He wasn't panicking – Gornash was sure of that because, when one panicked, they couldn't breathe and felt faint. He was still breathing normally and he wasn't faint...

"_They won't separate us. I won't let them."_

But he also couldn't think. How was he supposed to make a decision over what to do – control himself – when he couldn't even think?

"...I'm... I'm not..." He struggled to find the right words to snap out – the right way to regain control. But, oddly enough, he almost didn't want to. After all, being able to control himself, as Skywalker had suggested – well, not really, but he might as well have – also made it his fault. Not being able to control this... whatever this was... that meant he wasn't to blame for what he did.

Or for what choices he made. Or for what it made him.

"I think you are." Skywalker pointed out, before Gornash could complete the thought, "I know you're a better person than this."

Was he? Was that really possible, even after this?

"_Does that change your opinion over this boy you've taken as an apprentice?"_

Come to think of it, Skywalker had been rather rooted in his belief about the boy. Gornash wondered – was this just because Skywalker was just the type to hand out blind faith, or was there something to it?

"_Make you uneasy knowing that it's in his blood to turn, one day or another?"_

Had Gornash been wrong? Was there a reason behind Skywalker's belief in that boy? And, if that was true, did that mean there was something more to the boy? Had Gornash misjudged him, too?

Skywalker hadn't spoken for several minutes by the time Gornash cast him another look. At last, the calm and collected expression slipped from his face, turning into a very tired, almost resigned look. Or was that Gornash's imagination? He supposed it could be either, and he understood perfectly well why with Skywalker's next words.

"But what I think has nothing to do with what you choose to do." What he CHOSE, according to Skywalker. It felt hollow, but in the same way a poison dart was hollow on the inside – only to be filled with something potent that infused into it's victim. And infused, those words were, indeed – infused with a power that might either ruin him or revive him, "If you want to trust me, that's up to you. I can't force you to believe me – if you think I'm full of it, then..."

Gornash knew very well how he reacted to people who were trying to jerk him around.

Rather like Kadann. And Jedgar. So, what if, he considered, Skywalker was just like them?

"Do you believe that's true for everyone?" Gornash asked, slowly, and then, before Skywalker could answer, he hurriedly amended the question into a new one – which was much more specific, and more important, "Do you believe that's true for that boy? Do you think he's a better person – that he choses to control himself over that?"

Skywalker blinked, then relaxed.

"I know he is. I can promise you that."

Gornash's gaze averted itself, this time as he needed to think. He wasn't looking for a promise – he needed proof. And what better proof, better test, better way to determine if Skywalker was right, if his unwavering faith was well-placed or just naivete, than to test the boy? If the boy was, as Skywalker asserted, able to mold himself into a good person, then he would have to be correct – the story of Alderaan's destruction would have to be true, not a lie. And if that was true, then Skywalker was right about him...

Gornash turned, pressed the door's button, and strode out. Now, how to get this proof?

* * *

_He wasn't sure what to think of the High Prophet, Jedgar. On one hand, he was offering freedom, power, and a more or less guarantee that he would live – or, if he died, it wouldn't be in the Showers or behind the chemical sheds. But, on the other, he was an extension of the systematic government that had made these Mines into internment camps for 'undesirable' citizens._

_He knew better – just like these Mines had been the place that stripped him of his name, home, family, and anything that might have identified him beyond the number on his arm and the badge on his shoulder, it was also the perfect place for people to disappear and nobody would blink, twice._

_But, for the moment – and, really, the moment was all that he had, all that he ever had, and all he ever would, from this point on – Jedgar was something like a personal guard. Walking behind him was the perfect insurance that no guards bothered him. He didn't need to blink, not once, when a stormtrooper passed and didn't even notice him. It was as though he were invisible, and that was almost liberating, itself._

_But he wasn't invisible – he was insubstantial. He had always been unimportant, but this was almost as though he'd already been gassed and was on his way to be incinerated._

_That thought passed through his mind as Jedgar signaled to a trooper standing at the door to a building. It was dark, formidable, and industrial – not like the barracks, which were flimsy and temporary, nor the mining shafts, which were ever changing. This building, he could tell, was where the Imps did their real work. All he could see from the ground was the streams of smoke and fire, issuing out of the towers on the building's roof._

_The guard pressed a code and the doors opened. Jedgar gestured for him to enter. Inside was choking hot and the air was so thick, he felt it pressing on his face and into his nose. He couldn't see anything, until he realized that the building was nothing but a giant furnace – no floor, no ceiling, just the iron cast shell that contained the flames and enough space in there for either a mechanic to worm in for repairs, or vents that fuel could be pushed into while soot expelled out._

"_Your brother is in here. Look for him if you want to."_

_He couldn't remember what he said. He hadn't been able to speak – he hadn't even been able to breathe._

* * *

Ken didn't see, nor hear, the creature, now. That didn't stop him from remembering the creature's voice, as the memory of it rang in his head. This time, he was perfectly awake – his muscles were twitching, uncontrollably, and he couldn't stop shaking. He was now unbearably, undeniably cold, and very aware that it was more than just the room or the floor.

How long had this been going on? It felt like days – weeks, even. It felt like each breath he took in moved so slowly that whole hours could pass before he needed to exhale. And then another few hours. And that was only assuming this was real. He still wasn't even sure.

Ken remembered, vaguely, reading somewhere once that the sleeping brain processed things much quicker than an awakened one – as a result, relatively brief periods of time went by with the compact number of events as far longer ones. Adjusting for that possibility, maybe he'd been like this for just a few hours. Or maybe this felt like hours when it had only been minutes.

And, again, Ken wondered about the possibility that he was imagining all of this. Was there a time-lapse phenomena that applied to hallucinations, or did those take place in real time? Was it possible to hallucinate other sensations, such as pain and exhaustion? There was a word for the hallucination of smelling foul odors: Dysosmia. If there could be medical terms for something so specific as that, surely there had to be terms for believing yourself to be injured and experiencing the sensation as though it were real.

Maybe there was a term for hallucinating emotions. Or for hallucinating the experience of seeing a dozen and a half people murdered in cold blood before...

Ken heard something like tapping. No, it was a clicking. No, not that... it was a rapping noise, like metal being drummed on. Ken raised his head – a task all the more laborious when his neck felt like it might snap under the weight of his skull – and let his gaze travel in the direction of the door. Someone was knocking on the door. He found himself blinking at it.

There was a click and a slot in the door opened – probably traditionally used for food to be passed through – enough that Ken could see a set of eyes. Black. And they glittered like granules of broken, black glass.

"I trust you're awake, now?" It was the voice of the short one – the one that had wanted the location of the Lost City, before, the one that had instructed the other Prophets, the one that had sliced his own hand open and...

What was his name? Ken felt like he should know, but couldn't, for the life of him, think of it.

"First, let's not have this discussion be hostile. Allow me to introduce myself: I am called Kadann. I already know you go by the name 'Ken the Jedi Prince'." The Prophet said, calmly, soothingly. And mockingly, as 'Jedi Prince' were the last words Ken would have used to describe himself, especially now.

"What do you want?" He heard a voice asking – weak, small, and shaking – and he felt his own throat shaking. Somehow, though, he just couldn't believe that it was him speaking.

Kadann sighed, as though sympathetic to Ken's plight. It didn't sound in the least bit convincing, but at the same time, whether it was convincing or not didn't matter because Ken wasn't really listening.

"I've already told you what I want." The location – or, Ken supposed, it would be more accurate to say, the coordinates – of the Lost City of the Jedi, "But, if our last conversation was any indicator, I suspect you might not be willing to let me have them, will you?"

Ken stopped craning his neck to watch the eyes, and promptly curled back up into a ball. Someone – he didn't know whom – had encased him in a kind of smock. It felt like plasti-coated burlap, smelled like starch, and was the color of mud with a lot of clay in it. It made a noise like flimsiplast being crumpled as Ken bent and pressed his head against his knees – left bare because of how short the smock was.

"I thought not. So, then – what shall we talk about?" Kadann asked, sounding so pleasant. In fact, it sounded rather as though he wanted to make Ken feel welcome, contrary to the real circumstances, "Let's see... I know – how have the lodgings been? I realize that the activity between these rest periods must be strenuous, but hopefully the time spent in the interim has been agreeable?"

Time spent in the interim... Ken didn't answer, but he could feel the skin on his back pebble with terror. The skin on his scalp. The skin on the backs of his legs.

"Oh, I see." Kadann mused, quietly. It was rather as though he was trying to remain calm, but silently furious at the notion of what Ken's silence implied, only further impressed when he continued, "Which one of the others was it? I'll need to know which of my affiliates can be relied on and which ones are not above more uncivilized treatment of guests such as yourself."

Ken still didn't respond.

"Hmm... well, I think I can guess it wasn't Jedgar – he hasn't been out of my sight for a moment until just now. And I obviously had no hand in this, you must trust." Yes, Ken was quite sure of that – he remembered the look on the green-eyed Prophet's face, how angry, how suddenly aggravated Ken's words had made him, how quickly it had come – but he also had no doubt that, on some level, Kadann approved of the action. How could he not – it was giving him this chance to badger Ken about it?

"And I also somewhat doubt it was Barnaby – heaven knows he would like nothing more than to laze about the ship all day. Whatever could he have done to you? Torment you with boredom? I think not."

At this point, Ken was becoming quite convinced that Kadann not only knew, but also knew whom it had been. He mostly believed this because he also didn't know any of the names of the Prophets. Save for Kadann, himself, Ken couldn't put any names to any of the faces. The fact that Kadann was listing them off by names that Ken wouldn't know could only mean Kadann was just dragging this out for his own delight.

"Mister Tilus... no, no... if Mister Tilus had decided to invest in a little unapproved time with you, there'd hardly be anything left for me to examine – that, and he's been left on clean-up duty in between the sessions. At the very least, it would have sated his hunger, just a little. He would have had no reason to so much as take a bite out of you." Kadann mused, detachedly enough to sound like he was just thinking out loud, but clearly enough that Ken knew this was being said for his benefit. It made Ken wonder, rather, what would have been different had any of these other Prophets been left in charge of him during the in-between moments.

"And, I suppose, the same thing could be said of Prophet Eris – his chosen motif is fire. Had he done anything to you, I would be examining the dental portions of your identity rather than having this conversation."

Ken rather wanted to cover his ears, but, oddly enough, his arms just wouldn't listen to him.

"That leaves us with Prophet Mammar... and our own Mister Gornash." Ken wondered – or, at least, the part of him that had been cold and analytical through out all of this, the part of him that had somehow made curious, almost comedic observations about the dire situation – why Kadann kept switching between 'Prophet' and 'Mister'. Was it how Kadann thought of these people, was it supposed to be some kind of subtle manipulation of words, was it just habit or coincidence?

"To be fair, Prophet Mammar was always rather interested in... meeting you, personally. I wouldn't be terribly surprised if he'd managed to secure a moment. But, that being said, I would also think, if he had, that he would be significantly different. Less irritable, or more satisfied – one of the two."

Ken felt his shoulders shivering. Of all things to be thinking about, he really wanted to not be thinking about this. Well, he didn't want to be thinking about any of this, really. He flexed a finger. What were the muscles in the Human hand? The thumb; extensor pollicis longus, flexor pollicis longus, extensor pollicis brevis, abductor pollicis longus...

"Now, Mister Gornash, on the other hand..." Kadann continued, oblivious to Ken's attempts to distract himself – the second to fifth digits; extensor digitorum, extensor indicis, extensor digiti minimi – "He has been behaving quite unusually since the beginning of this whole ordeal. He's been quiet when I would have thought he'd have some protest to make, unusually cooperative... not to mention, he's been quite enthusiastic about capturing yourself and Commander Skywalker, despite the fact that he, at first, attempted to assist the two of you."

Wrist flexors of the second to fifth digits; flexor digitorum superficialis, flexor digitorum profundus... wait, what had Kadann just said?

"Oh, you didn't know that? Yes – he thinks he's so clever to keep secrets. One would think he'd know better. But he tried. And, yet, despite trying to protect you at first, he's been the most willing to go through all of the necessary procedures. And, of all things, I left him in charge of your care – medical and otherwise – between the necessary proceedings..." Kadann's voice dropped off. Oddly enough, Ken was fairly confident that Kadann would have said 'maintenance' rather than 'care'.

"Oh, my poor boy." His voice turned quiet and pained – so much so that, had Ken really been invested in listening, he almost would have believed it. As he was, though... "Mea culpa, my child – mea culpa."

(A/N: Just as a translation note: 'Mea culpa' is a Latin phrase that, translated, means 'My fault'. It also has some religious connotations – Google the phrase, I'm not in the mood to explain – and, yes, I realize that Latin isn't terribly canonical for Star Wars, but... I just had Ken reciting the Latin names for the muscles in his fingers in his head, so...)

"I was the one who assigned him such a duty. Forgive me – if only I hadn't..." Ken closed his eyes as tightly as they would go, trying to ignore Kadann, and trying to not focus on the very fresh memory...

_the hand_

_the fingers – long and thin and powerful_

_the pressure as they gripped his cheeks_

_sealing his mouth shut_

"_You're not sorry enough."_

"But, please... You mustn't judge them so harshly." Kadann followed up, "While I don't try to make excuses, even I will say they have lived some horrific extremes... I might even say, it would be enough to twist even the most tranquil of minds to violence. Perhaps if I explain, you could at least forgive them..."

Forgive... There was part of Ken that wondered how anyone, least of all Kadann, could beg that for anyone... but Ken could also think of someone else who might beg that of even these Prophets of the Dark Side...

_Ken..._

Ken wrapped his arms around his head – the cold seemed to pierce his skull and go into his brain. What would Luke say if he could see him, right now? Ken remembered, all too well, the look on Luke's face when Ken had failed all those times before. He'd failed to live up as an apprentice, failed to improve when Luke had tried to hard to train him, failed to grow, failed to be strong – he'd even failed to, at least, stay out of the way and not burden Luke.

And now... he'd failed to protect even himself. He'd failed to be brave. He'd failed to be strong enough to, at the very least, not cry and scream like a baby.

The thought of the disappointment in Luke's eyes... it shook Ken to the core.

"Perhaps you are too young to know this, but the Empire had a very strict standard for what an ideal citizen would be. An ideal people, you might say. And anyone who failed to fit that standard was... undesirable... for the society the Empire sought to build. So, many years ago, there was a project put into effect that would not only rid the galaxy of its undesirables, but ensure the purity of the remnants. For the good of all society to come, you understand."

Ken tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry and it felt rather like his stomach was fighting to crawl up and into his throat.

"And, as a part of that project, various samples of populations whom were undesirable were used in experiments – either to undo whatever had corrupted them, or to see if they could be stopped from breeding and spreading into the collective." Kadann continued, talking over Ken's now quite labored breathing, "And, oh, what experiments they were... Mister Tilus, for example – one of the key problems for any country is the spread of hunger among it's populace. So, the project took a sample of two-hundred tributes and altered their digestive systems – making a type of absorption that could break down and pull nutrients from any form of material, as well as the implantation of multiple tracts of digestive tubing throughout the subject's body, hands, feet, you name it. Unfortunately, while the subject will never starve to death, a distressing side effect also prevents them from ever feeling the sensation of fullness – in it's own way, the relief from starvation is the curse of unending hunger. And, from that sample of two-hundred tributes... Mister Tilus is the only surviving sample."

The twitching was back. Ken wasn't sure if he'd ever stopped, but now, he was very aware of the crawling sensation that shocked through almost every muscle in his body.

"And Prophet Jedgar... I'm unsure of what you might say about him, but you will find he is rather... thick-skinned, shall we say? This cause, I believe, was to create a type of person whom could withstand any form of physical assault and walk away, unharmed – perfect, I suspect you're imagining, for soldiers, but imagine what it could do for just the common civilian. A whole society with no fear of assaults or injury, with no need of a majority of medical supplies, with no need for defensive technology to spare citizens from warfare or even casual accidents." Kadann was still talking. Ken's skin was still crawling, "And they did manage... for him. The other one-hundred and thirteen subjects placed in the project with him... not so lucky."

Why could Ken still hear him? What he wouldn't give to clasp his hands over his ears and never have to hear this voice, again, but his hands – his arms, even – just wouldn't listen to him.

"Or even Mister Gornash..." Kadann insisted, "Those aren't his natural eyes, as I'm sure you deduced from the scars around them. The objective of that project, while undefined, was achieved with the transplant of the subject's eyeballs with some... altered... creations. Would you like to know how many others underwent the procedure, including Mister Gornash?"

Ken didn't answer, but he had no doubt it was a very high number.

"Three-hundred and twenty-seven." Was the answer after a pause so long that Ken wondered if Kadann was honestly waiting for him to reply, or was just stretching it out, "Long odds. Very long, indeed. And yet, for all the experiments, for all the others whom perished in the name of forging a path for the ideal, the seven of us still remain."

Kadann fell silent and Ken couldn't think, anymore. His mind had gone very blank – well, no, actually. He did find himself pondering the probability, the physiology, the medicine, the science. What kinds of things must the Empire have done? How much suffering must these men have gone through? Whatever they'd done to him, Ken had the distinct impression that it paled in comparison to what the Empire had done to them. And for what? What had any of them done?

For the Prophets, Ken had the distinct impression that none of them had really done anything – he knew all too well of the Empire's history of bigotry and blind discrimination. He'd read far too many docs and written out far too many large numbers, for far too many homework assignments. And really understood far too little of it until now.

"Actually, we were especially lucky, given that none of us were even Force-sensitive." Kadann suddenly mentioned, "...But I do wonder... how much better would one who WAS powerful in the Force fare?"

In just that second, Ken felt the gears in his brain freeze – from panic, probably, because the alternative was he was just incredibly slow on the uptake and he didn't want to be – before that statement processed.

"Perhaps we should see... how much better do you anticipate the odds would be if we attempted the procedures on, say... Commander Skywalker?"

His brain started to fire off the probabilities as quickly as it could. The probability of the gastrointestinal procedure, one in two-hundred; the probability of the skin procedure, one in one-hundred and thirteen; the probability of the eye procedure, one in three-hundred and twenty-seven. What was the probability of surviving all three procedures? That was... already, less than one percent probability... unless he'd done the math wrong... And what about four other procedures that Ken didn't know the odds for?

"Would he have a better chance?" Kadann mused, then paused, as though honestly waiting for Ken's response, "...Or would he be incredibly unlucky?"

Ken couldn't breathe. His mouth opened and he gulped the air, but it just wouldn't go in, as though it had become stubbornly solid and was clogging his airways, filling them, puncturing them with any sharp corners...

"Well, since the opportunity has presented itself..." Ken didn't see it at the moment, but Kadann's eyes disappeared from the slot, and tiny, clacking footsteps followed.

They were going to torture Luke. For whatever reason, this jumped to the forefront of Ken's mind – more than any aches that ran up and down his body, more than the screams of innocent people that still echoed in his mind as they were killed, more than any thought of what this was all about, or why they were doing this. The whole world seemed to narrow down to this one, tiny, pinprick of a fact, and it burned so horribly, as if hearing this suggestion was akin to a white-hot needle the width of a Human hair being thrust between his eyes.

The twitching in Ken's muscles suddenly turned into jolts, as though powered by electricity. Ken found himself lurching forward, torso lifting off the floor and his fingers clutching at the open slot in the door.

"NO!" It felt like his voice, but at the same time, Ken found himself screaming with a kind of force as though he'd drawn his breath up from his feet. Kadann's footsteps stopped and in a moment, Ken could see the tiny face – perfectly on level with his – peering through the slot in the door. He was smiling, calmly, waiting, "Whatever you want, I shall do it! Please! What do you want?"

Kadann didn't even blink. Ken knew – he'd already said what he wanted. Why he wanted it, what he planned to do – none of that mattered. All Ken had to do was cooperate, and Luke...

Luke would be spared...

Ken ducked his head, gulping in the air. It was the only way he could stop himself from being sick, from fainting...

"The coordinates..." He choked, "...Are..."

A/N: And that's it for this chapter. I found myself learning so much about the Human body as I wrote this. I also found out that, for the entire month of August, so far, more people have visited and read 'Love Knows No Circuits' than this fic or 'CMC'. ...I don't get you people.


	27. Part III: Chapter 7

PRINCE

By Sapadu

A/N: And now, for part three of my reinterpretation of Prophets of the Dark Side. Complete with betrayal, psychological trauma, repressed homosexual issues, and child abuse.

...The original books were written for CHILDREN.

Chapter 7:

When was the damn medic gonna get here?

That was all the guard could think. It was bad enough that he had to take this shift and the prisoner was in a coma – he thought, at least – but the rumor was that this freak job was some kind of whacked clone of the old Emperor's or something. And, to top it off, they were giving him MEDICAL care. He had comrades who lost limbs, had strokes and heart attacks from engine fumes, contracted diseases from all the weird planets they tramped about to... But never mind them, not when there was an IMP in a holding cell.

And, really, there was nothing wrong with this guy – he was asleep. He wasn't going to hurt anybody, least of all himself, nor was he in any real pain, probably. At least, he wasn't screaming. Let him sleep for a few days.

But, no – the guard's superior had said this was serious, and they needed a medic to check this guy over, so now HE was standing here, waiting for the medic to come in.

It made him so damn mad. The guy was an Imp. No, not even that, he was a piece of the Emperor – it was like having old Wrinkles in the cell, in person.

Let him rot.

"This him?" The guard snapped to attention – it was that new medic with the patch over her face. The one Lady Mothma had put everyone on alert might be a spy or an agent from Isard. Great – send a maybe Imp to be the medic for the kind of clone of the Emperor. This just got better and better.

"Yes." His supervisor had also returned, obviously, "With all due respect, Medic Dank – no sharp implements or anything with potential to be a weapon. For your own safety."

The medic woman willingly unstrapped a few belts – one from around her waist, one buckled to her vest, two wrapped around her leg under the hanging ends of her tunic, and one from her wrist – and let the guard scan her for any hidden electronics. Nothing. Nothing, save for the portable datapad and scanner his supervisor handed back to her.

"Keep in mind, this is just a precaution. I don't anticipate you needing to treat him for anything." His supervisor continued. At this, Medic Dank rolled her eyes.

"He's in a COMA, you moron!" She snarled, "You'll be lucky if I don't demand you cart him out to get hooked up to a brain scanner, just to be sure nothing shut down while you farted around with 'Precautions'."

How she got away with talking that way to a guard, he didn't know, but Dank was allowed into the cell. She stepped, barefoot, across the barrier line with a sigh.

"Geezus. What kinda mess have you gotten us into THIS time?" She muttered, as though talking to the prisoner. Like she knew him or something.

This did not inspire confidence.

* * *

_Well, Viro had gotten the dreamscape stabilized – no more shaking, it wasn't threatening to come apart at the seams, and, likewise, he and Triclops weren't liable to be knocked into Force knew what kind of brain-dead shock. That was always good._

"_Boy..." Triclops, meanwhile, was still having a nervous breakdown, which Viro had been UNABLE to coax him out of. In fact, he hadn't even been able to have a rational conversation with him._

"_This has all been my fault." Was Triclops' repeated refrain. Of course it was. Because, really, when did Triclops NOT think everything was his fault? Viro kind of wondered if that made it some kind of narcissism on a technicality._

"_How about you help me by waking us up and maybe we can try something to make it NOT your fault?" Viro suggested, not quite yet wanting to shake Triclops to sense. Or, he guessed, try and take over for a little while. That would just make everything worse, and it wasn't like they were in any immediate danger._

"_...This whole time..." Triclops was mumbling._

"_This whole time, you were in a cell. You did NOTHING. You COULDN'T." Viro argued, knowing full well that Triclops either wasn't listening or couldn't hear._

"_...That thing... that was MY mind..."_

_Well, so was Viro. And, to be fair, Triclops hadn't been too keen on Viro's presence inside his head at first. On the other hand, he'd been a scared little kid at that time. Now, he was a grown-ass man, and used to having a second persona wandering around his psyche._

_And, Viro guessed, since he'd just... killed? No, that wasn't the right word... eliminated, perhaps, the third persona in pretty much the exact same way Viro had, once upon a time, killed some other self-interested prick with a control complex... that probably wasn't helping matters. Now that Viro thought about it, what HAPPENED to that portion of Triclops' (And his own) personality? Were the actions and memories and traits of that one now a part of them again? Or were they gone, like some kind of exorcism?_

_Why'd psychology have to be so karking screwed up?_

"_That was ME... I was DOING all of that..."_

"_By that logic, you're doing everything I do, whenever you want some stormtroopers strangled or a wall or two pushed over." Viro retorted. Though, again, this wasn't a very fair argument, as Triclops had been more than willing to take ownership of Viro's actions. Now, was it a responsible philosophy, or just guilt?_

"_...I've been doing all of this... this was all my fault..." While Triclops was not rocking – as Viro had seen him do, in previous breakdowns – he had curled up and was speaking with his nose pressed to the floor. It was almost worse._

_For one, if Triclops started to rock, he had to focus on that – that meant it was easier to break his concentration on whatever torture he was trying to put himself through. Viro wouldn't have been nearly so uneasy about giving Triclops a shove, as it would easily break him out of the stupor. Secondly, if Triclops was just leaving himself exposed like this, taking a swing at him or even so much as touching him would only make things worse._

_He could still deal with it... maybe..._

"_...I've been helping... them..." Triclops choked, "...I've been trying to kill my own son..."_

_And there, Viro's irritation and impatience came to a grinding halt. In effect, that was exactly what the now non-existent third persona had been doing. Every cooperation with any authority figure in the Empire, every sabotage thrown into the works, and now this... And, if Triclops was going to count the actions of any alter-ego as his own, then it was a perfectly logical conclusion to come to._

_Viro had to quickly rethink his counterarguments._

"_You've also been doing your damnedest to keep him SAFE. For everything that one did to put the kiddo in the line of fire, you at least TRIED-" As hard as someone who'd been in a coma for twelve years could try, anyway, "-To protect him. I'd say that at least evens everything out."_

_This both worked and didn't. It worked in stopping Triclops' detached, mindless muttering. It didn't, because his response was to reach forward, grab Viro by the front of his shirt, and start shouting in his face._

"_Then WHY is all of this HAPPENING? WHY isn't Kendal SAFE? WHY did I FAIL?"_

_Viro had no answer to that. Clearly, he needed to rethink this strategy._

"_This has been..." Triclops crumpled, as though it were too hard for him to support his own weight, "...From the very beginning... this was all my fault... If only I had not..."_

_And Viro REALLY didn't like the direction Triclops was going with this._

"_I should not be here."_

_And that sounded all too familiar to Viro._

"_Triclops. Stop it."_

"_If I were not here... this could not have happened."_

"_I will if I have to. Don't make me."_

_The dreamscape was starting to warp again. And not in the way that it had been shaking before – more like it was trying to collapse. Like it was going to implode._

"_If I cannot protect Kendal... If I have been the reason for all of this..."_

_Viro grabbed Triclops' head. This dreamscape wasn't completely under his control. To have control, he'd have to be the one calling the shots._

_And for that..._

_Viro steeled himself, not knowing what would come next._

* * *

Tilus wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when the old Copy-Cat Eyes pulled him, Barnaby, and Noma – Noma, of all people – to the side. Given the shit they'd been up to for the last day or so, Tilus had been afraid Kadann was now using Gornash in some weird passive-aggressive move to manipulate them, again, into doing his bidding. Or that maybe Jedgar was watching them and just using Gornash as bait to make them feel safe. Or maybe this was just a coincidence that they'd bumped into each other, and the Copy-Cat had just snapped.

Could be anything.

"Who else is sick of those two just doing what they wanted and getting away with it?" Was the real question Gornash asked them. Tilus blinked, just a little. He hadn't been really expecting this – not given the Copy-Cat's willingness to just go along with them, without complaint.

Granted, the lot of them had also done what Jedgar and Kadann had wanted, but...

"What, you mean, sick like... pissed?" Noma demanded, almost a little too defensively. But then again, what did Tilus know? He wasn't that smart. Neither was Barnaby... he thought. Gornash was smart. Jedgar was smart. Kadann was smart. That's why, Tilus told himself, it was better to let them do the thinking. It was easier.

Gornash didn't act any differently. Tilus guessed that meant he'd been imagining Noma's tone of voice.

"Sure. Who else wants to do something about it?" Gornash clarified. Of course, Noma grinned. And, since 'Doing something about it' sounded pretty satisfying, if vague, Tilus raised one of his hands. Even if he didn't agree, someone would probably just talk him into it, anyway.

"Do WHAT? You saying we should try and FIGHT with them, or something?" Barnaby demanded. Put like that, it didn't sound so great, anymore. Tilus knew damn well how well that would work out if he tried.

"No." Gornash snapped, "But we don't have to do what they tell us, either."

Now, Tilus was back to being confused.

"In a few moments, he'll probably go around trying to find all of us to start the third session of this ritual." Gornash pointed out. Tilus liked to hear that Gornash was avoiding using the word 'Kadann' – if nothing else, it made him feel a little more sure that he wasn't the only one spooked, "Simply refuse, or do nothing."

...Well, when he put it like that it sounded disgustingly easy.

"Yeah. That'll happen." Sneered Noma. And they all knew it. Who did Copy-Cat here think he was kidding? Just NOT obey Kadann – it would be easier to stop feeling hungry. All of them knew that, too. Why were they even bothering to talk about it? And what were they supposed to do when the big, hulking freak that was Jedgar came around and started to bully them? Just shrug and act like they hadn't heard him? They'd get their heads bashed in.

Gornash's weird eyes flickered over all of them – the freaky, all-seeing things they'd based his nickname on – as though he were trying to read their kriffing minds. Tilus pretended he wasn't able to see them – Barnaby and Noma were more than enough to play brave for him. Let them do it.

Tilus didn't see that neither of the other two were terribly keen on this little upstart giving them all the evil eye. Seriously, it was like he thought he knew better than they did. Of course, that gave Tilus an idea.

"Copy-Cat Eyes, you haven't been talking to the Skywalker brat, have you?"

Gornash's eyes narrowed. Then, he started to sneer. Tilus didn't think he'd ever seen the Copy-Cat Eyes sneer – but he was pretty sure that he didn't like the look.

"Do you know what he said to me?" Gornash asked, looking amused at what he was saying, "He thinks that we're 'better than this'. That we want to be better people."

Oh, Skywalker brat had said THAT, had he? Tilus wondered if Gornash was making this up, if it was a load of crap, or if Skywalker had actually said it and MEANT it.

"He thinks so highly of us, does he?" Agreed Noma, apparently also disgusted at the condescension they were getting from some wet-behind-the-ears kid – and their prisoner, no less.

Gornash stopped sneering. It was better than that curled upper lip, if only because Tilus was used to seeing him like this. Of course, this was the look Gornash usually wore when he was thinking especially hard about something.

"...That's not quite it, though..." He mused, "...He wasn't being patronizing... he actually seemed to be... comforting..."

Wait... so, the freak who'd been doing the most damage out of all of them, who'd actually done such nasty shit as shaving the boy's head and then branding him – at Kadann's suggestion, yeah, but still – and Tilus was pretty sure there was more that he just didn't know about... now, Gornash was actually buying this? And expecting all of them to go along with it?

"Aw. So, we're all supposed to want to change, just because some Vader-spawn was really nice and thinks we can all be good little saints, like he is?" Noma bit out. Even his sarcasm sounded a little faint. Because, in all honesty, Tilus didn't doubt that their prisoner might just mean it.

It was Gornash he was questioning.

"I'm just saying, if we all wanted to get back at them for all the shit they've been making us do..." Gornash let it hang, because they all suddenly heard footsteps.

"Gentlemen?" Tilus was so spooked by the noise that he almost threw up. As it was, he ended up twisting around. Immediately behind them, in the corridor, was Jedgar. The other tall, lurking freak of the bunch. Though, comparing Gornash to Jedgar, Tilus would take Gornash any day – if nothing else, the Copy-Cat was laid back. He was calm. He didn't take anything personally. Jedgar... Tilus didn't know WHAT his problem was. And he had a problem – he'd pick any one of them up and throw them into the wall if they pissed him off, Tilus knew that much.

"What are you all doing here?" He demanded. Tilus didn't answer. He didn't hear Barnaby or Noma spring up to reply, either. Didn't surprise him – he'd figured they were just as spooked by this guy as he was.

"Waiting." Was Gornash's reply – and it was a perfectly reasonable statement, if completely short of the truth, "Were the lot of us supposed to not acknowledge the other's existence until after the procedure was over with?"

Jedgar scowled at Gornash over Tilus' head. That was fine with Tilus – so long as nobody got the bright idea to hurt HIM.

"Kadann actually expected that you would all be maintaining some semblance of respect for the moment – especially with how everyone has been, up to now."

Respect wasn't quite the word Tilus would use for how he'd been reacting to this whole... ordeal... more like horror. Or shock – that was more like it.

"You say that as though we should be UN-happy about what we're doing." Gornash sounded amused. Or as amused as he ever got – probably not very, but still, Tilus could hear it. Maybe the Copy-Cat really had lost it.

"The POINT..." Jedgar growled, "...is that it's time to gather."

Tilus was pretty sure Jedgar had never started out with that intention. But he knew better than to point it out, especially when he'd seen survive being thrown into solid rock by the last living apprentice of the Jedi Master Windu – Tilus somewhat doubted he'd last very long after mouthing off.

Barnaby slouched off, dragging Tilus with him – or, at any rate, Tilus followed, more than willing for an excuse to leave. Neither of them so much as glanced back.

"Whatcha think the little slimeball's thought up, this time?" Barnaby asked, not sounding terribly like he wanted to hear any ideas.

Couldn't be any worse than what they'd been doing, so far.

* * *

The floor was cold. And, honestly, Ken could get used to it. It wasn't giving him anything, but, it took nothing from him. Of all things, this seemed like a a relatively nice trade. There was nothing it did to actively hurt him. He didn't have to fight it, nor fear it, nothing that made him wish he were dead rather than be here.

So, there he stayed. Curled up, able to pretend that there was nothing beyond the walls of the cell. Content to drift. Content to watch the things that drifted in and out of his vision. The ape-creature didn't come back, but Ken could swear he heard it's voice, however inconsequential or insubstantial the noises were.

He could hear the hum of machines under his ears – almost as though the mechanization was trying to speak to him, in only the barest of whispers. It felt almost like there was an invisible friend buried in the ship, just wanting to talk. He'd always liked talking with machines – if it could be called 'talking'. Computers just... understood. They were simple, that way.

He could see someone squatting next to him on a formless, black floor, looking right at him with eyes the same shade of bright gray as his. If he bothered to look up, he could see a smiling face, round and framed with moppy, dark hair. It looked like his own face – he was staring, impossibly into his own eyes...

He had to be dreaming. Or maybe he was hallucinating. Or maybe both – could you hallucinate about dreaming or dream about hallucinating? He'd have to ask Dee-Jay once he woke up – Dee-Jay would know.

That was when the door opened.

Ken twisted his head around to look. He could only see the gray floor, distinguished in the doorway by the barest of light falling over the grate. And, as Ken's eyes moved of their own accord, there was the crooked angle of the hem of a robe, black and chunks that were probably someone's boots. Up, and Ken saw a face that was all too close to the floor.

Oh. Just Kadann. That wasn't nearly as awful as –

_you giving out the coordinates for your home?_

Ken felt his fingers dig into his knees. He really wanted to wake up from this nightmare, right about now.

For whatever reason, there was a hand around his elbow, hauling him off the floor – up, out of the protective little ball he'd wrapped himself into, then out of the door of the cell, then out of the corridor and into a larger chamber. Still encased. Still hidden away behind a series of walls. Still something between him and... whatever it was, on the other side.

Ken heard himself asking about Luke –

_because, of course, the greatest hero of the galaxy would need YOU to protect him, not the other way around _

–and there was some kind of response in one of the Prophet's voices, one that Ken wondered if it even mattered. There were a few other Prophets, too – and their voices, and Ken couldn't make out a single word. It was as though there were a filter over his ears, blocking any trace of meaning out of his brain.

Maybe he was awake, but hallucinating – and the fact that this hallucination wasn't even making any sense was the result of something else.

_we have the makings of a perfect villain on our hands_

Where was that from? And what did those words mean, anyway? Would it make more sense if he knew who'd said them, and why? And here, he'd never given context enough credit. Ken decided this had to be a dream – just the same way he'd had strange dreams in the past, and, for as much as they terrified him, he would wake up and understand why, and how to think about it.

There was the sensation of the floor moving underneath his feet – like it was slowly spinning, too slow to actually upset his balance, but fast enough that it could potentially throw him to the side. Then, two hands wrapped around his arms. His feet moved. Or the floor moved. Or one of the two – maybe his feet were being pulled. There was a kind of weightlessness that made him wonder if he was about to wake up from the long dream.

A gust of hot air hit Ken in the face. And with it, a bright, blinding light. What was this, anyway? It felt familiar – somehow – but he couldn't think of words that fit with it. Like his entire vocabulary relating to sensations had momentarily disappeared. There had to be a word for a light that was so bright it made him squint AND pierced his skin with heat...

_sunlight_

...and he knew it... but how?

Come to think of it, where did the hands around his arms come from? They felt odd – one was heavier than the other, and that other one had longer fingers, a wider palm. One of them... felt familiar. Kind of like this light and the air felt familiar. What? What a strange concept – how did air feel familiar? And why was he thinking that way, anyhow?

Hallucination. Definitely a hallucination. A dream about a hallucination. That explained everything.

His feet were moving again – and the floor. And the floor was changing as his feet moved over it – from hard, unyielding and gritty to something soft and pliable and just as warm as the light.

The hands were suddenly gone from his arms. Ken wondered if he'd fall – and if he did, would he fall and hit this new, soft floor? Or would he just keep falling and falling, until the light swallowed him up?

He didn't end up falling. He didn't know how – his knees felt watery, useless. But it was apparently enough, because he soon found himself staring at a spot of blackness that was shaped into a face – the top and the bottom and the eyes were all black. It stood out against the brightness, and the warmth in the air. And it gave off a voice.

The words went past his ears, like they didn't even exist, but Ken knew what he was meant to hear.

_Lead us._

His legs moved, on their own now – his feet guided each step, as though he knew what his destination was without even knowing where he was standing. And, oddly enough, he couldn't understand why he was walking. It was as though he was watching his own legs rise and fall against the ground. He could feel the feathery softness of the ground against his feet, just as much as he felt the razor-wire sharpness, and even the occasional miniscule poke, but it was as though there was no pressure on them.

It was the strangest sensation he could imagine.

Even stranger was how, even as his feet moved, was that he couldn't help but think that he absolutely shouldn't be doing this. There was something – well, rather like he knew they were headed somewhere, and he knew that he absolutely mustn't go there. He shouldn't LEAD anyone there. But he couldn't remember exactly why – or where he was leading them, exactly.

Oh well – he'd find out, soon enough.

* * *

"There." Leia picked up the signal before Han had even noticed it. Off the port bow, too – and not even like a minor blip on the screen that could have easily been passed by. And Leia was still woozy from... whatever the hell it had been.

Wow, Han was not doing too well, today, was he?

"Han, THERE'S the signal." Leia repeated, a lot more snappishly than Han had heard her talk, before. Han fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Alright, alright." No need for her Worship to get her panties all in a twist about it, "Chewie, we're going in." Chewbacca growled back over the comm, undoubtedly preparing the landing gear. It took only a matter of minutes, and even before that, Leia was out of the other commanding chair and down the corridor for the hatch. Han found himself doing a double-take, but unable to go after her when he still needed to man the controls.

"Chewie, could you keep her Royalness from jumping ship, just yet?" Han called into the comm, working as best he could to land them quickly without breaking a window or anything. The responding growl sounded more amused than Han wanted to admit.

The landing did end roughly and with Han hearing the Princess yelp at him to be more careful – what the kark did she expect, when they were landing out in the middle of nowhere – before the familiar sound of the boarding ramp lowering. He was out of the pilot's seat and rushing down the corridor, just in time to see Leia jump off the only half-lowered plank to the ground and go sprinting for the source of the signal.

It occurred to Han that maybe the problem wasn't him – maybe there was something wrong with Leia, at this exact moment.

By the time he and Chewie had got off the Falcon and onto solid ground, Leia'd already reached what – at least Han thought – was the wreckage of Luke's X-Wing. Whatever had happened to it, it was barely recognizable. Whole chunks were missing from the wings, the nose, the engines, and while one of the wings looked like it might have come off when crashing or something like that, there were other missing pieces that looked like something had just bitten the metal off – the cockpit had been completely unhinged, with a gouging mouthprint on the corner.

"Artoo." Leia was mumbling, already stumbling around the ground near the wreckage, "Look for Artoo – he's the one who sent the signal. He has to be..."

Han made a half-hearted attempt at poking around the underbrush – not out of real apathy, but more out of distraction. To be fair, he had plenty to warrant his attention elsewhere – namely, what was it that had literally eaten Luke's X-Wing? And what was, not-so-literally, eating Leia?

So, instead of spreading out like would have been the smart thing to do, Han kept closer to Leia. Hey, in his mind, the way she was acting was liable to... he didn't know, slip or trip or accidentally run into a tree or something. This way, he could keep an eye on her. It WAS a smart move.

After a half hour of this, that was when Chewbacca found the R2 unit – tangled under a mess of broken branches about ten meters away. Somehow, Han was not surprised that when he and Leia heard Chewie roaring for their attention, Leia started running first, and when they all tried to pick Artoo off the ground, her arms were shaking so badly that she was barely able to get a grip. Han found himself reaching around her for his own hands to find purchase, and received an elbow in his gut.

"H-hey, your Worship..." He gagged, still doing more to support the weight of the R2 unit than Leia was, "...Jus' trying to..."

"I KNOW." Leia snapped, ducking under Han's arm and wrapping her whole arms around and under Artoo's wheels, "Let's just get him back to the ship and go through his memory banks until we find out what happened."

Artoo was not as bad off than Han would have thought – given the shape the X-Wing was in. There was a dent the size of a human fist on the droid's right side, leaving dents and splits in the metal over the dome and a crack in it's control panel. When Han cautiously pried the warped metal off of the droid's circuitry, there was a mess of split wires, busted gears, and broken supports – really, considering the amount of damage Artoo had sustained, it was a miracle that it had been able to send an S.O.S, let alone maintain a signal to be located by.

"Never thought I'd wish the Professor was here to help us." Han muttered, hopefully under his breath. Leia said nothing, so he could only guess she hadn't heard him as she attached wires to any solid circuits she could manage. Hopefully, they could retrieve something from Artoo's memory banks and give them a better idea of what happened to Luke and the kiddo.

It was as they finally started to find some data of the sweep that Chewie opened a comm to the repair bay.

":Cub, a signal in our range.:" Han rolled his eyes, frustrated with so much to do.

"Can't it wait, Chewie?" Or, better yet, couldn't he just shoot it down?

":It's an Alliance signal. Requesting a report from you.:" Han swore and slammed down the mircopoint he'd been using on the floor. Leia shot him a look.

"Be right back." He grumbled as he got to his feet and hauled into the cockpit, already thinking over the argument he'd offer from whatever big shot on the Council was pissed enough to comm him and demand a report. So what if he'd technically taken off without clearance? So what if he'd taken Her Highness with him without alerting security? So what if he hadn't contacted base and alerted them to Luke's S.O.S signal? He was here, getting something done, wasn't he?

"Solo here." He snapped into the comm when he finally reached the cockpit. Chewie was maintaining a respectful distance.

"This is Rogue Two, requesting permission to land and assist." Of all the voices, Han hadn't been expecting to hear the voice of Wedge Antilles.

"Rogue Three, coming in for landing." And that was Hobs.

"And me."

"Yes, and you, Janson." Wedge's voice agreed.

Han found himself speechless, albeit for just a moment.

"Aw, guys – you're hurting my feelings." Wes moaned over the comm before switching to unnatural seriousness, "Solo, what's the status of the search for Commander Skywalker?"

Han shook himself out of the surprise and managed a halfway intelligent response.

"We've recovered the wreckage of an X-Wing, but no remains. We can only conclude that he's been captured." He was also kind of relieved to hear the three Rogues let out a breath of relief. It meant he wasn't the only one who'd been secretly freaking out at the idea that Luke might have crashed and burned.

'And all because I was stupid and didn't knock him out when I had the chance and kriffing LET him go on this damn sweep...'

"Han?" Wedge's voice intoned over the comm, snapping him out of his funk, "...Any leads on who might have taken Luke or where they might have taken him?"

Han shook his head, then realized they couldn't see him doing that over the comm.

"Negative, Rogue Two." He managed, "Start sweep of the area for unidentified ships."

"On it." Wes agreed, an unspoken 'Oh, because we hadn't thought of THAT brilliant strategy, genius' in his voice, "Rogue Four to North-by-Northwest out."

"Rogue Two to South out." Wedge reported.

"Rogue Three to Northeast out." Hobs commed, before all three of the Rogues vanished from Han's radar.

He went back into the repair bay to see if any progress had been made with Artoo. The visual records in his databanks were brief – a glimpse of something smashing into the ship before something collided with Artoo's visual receptors and the images were reduced to static. Leia was irritably going over the recordings, over and over again, working with various still frames and trying to clean the images for a better idea of what had happened. Chewie was working on actually repairing the little droid, itself. So far, it looked okay enough, Han guessed. It looked even better when Han parked himself back down and went back to work with the micropoint and swapped out a few more wires that had been split in the impact.

It was nearly three hours of this – and Han only realized that because Chewie had managed to reconnect most of Artoo's circuits so it could at least function again – when they got a comm from Wedge.

"Imperial ship in sector five. Appears to be a passenger carrier. Might be armed. All ships requested for backup."

Han was more than happy to pull himself out of the squat and back into the cockpit. So much so that he didn't even glance back when someone plopped into the copilot's seat.

"Chewie, you get the navicomputer started up."

"Fine." Leia's voice made Han do a double take, one that didn't last long before he had to switch back to stabilizing the engines. Even when the Falcon lifted off the ground, Han could practically feel Leia's tense posture in the seat beside him. It was a quiet few minutes as they guided the ship towards the coordinates Wedge had sent them – ones that seemed familiar, though damned if Han could think of why he was getting this deja vu.

Finally, he managed a glance at Leia from out of the corner of his eye. She was sitting up so straight, it was almost comical, were it not for how weird she'd been all day.

"He's fine, Leia." Han managed. She didn't look at him, "Trust me, he's okay – we'll have him back before ya know it."

Leia's hand clenched on the armrest. Han heard her nails sink into the padding of the seats.

* * *

Something was coming. Luke could feel it. Where ever he was now, something else was coming for him – though, on the plus side, he could tell it wasn't another enemy. It felt like a cheerful kind of anger – righteous, justified, and steady.

Probably Han or Leia. That was more than enough. He managed to calm himself enough to undo the binders on his wrists – what had been IN that poison, anyway? – but that wouldn't be enough for the doors. He thought.

But, of course, he could be wrong. Still, thinking logically, Luke doubted the Prophets would have been stupid enough to leave a Jedi in an ordinary cell – chances are there was some kind of trick on the lock. What, Luke wasn't quite imaginative enough to think of, but the uncertainty after having just recovered his senses enough to just undo his binders was enough to make him overly cautious.

So... the key for now was to try and think ahead. And, for that matter, think about what he could do before he did anything rash.

Luke calmed down and concentrated. It would probably be wiser to wait for Han and Leia, or whoever else was coming – his chances would be better – but this also might be a trap and waiting would be playing right into their hands.

Calm. Breathe in. Breathe out.

So, naturally, Luke was quite surprised when the door opened and an unfamiliar face of one of the other prophets greeted him. The one with the lazy eye. He didn't even look bothered that Luke had obviously gotten out of the binders – in fact, all he did was cock his head to one side, as though examining a curiosity he'd never seen before.

"Copy Cat Eyes says you think we're all alright." He finally drawled. Luke was unsure what to say to this, so he said nothing. The prophet tilted his head the other way, frowning, "...Says you tried to... how'd he put it? Comfort him... without patronizing..."

Luke considered. 'Copy-Cat Eyes' he assumed, probably meant that green-eyed prophet, Gornash. What it meant, Luke couldn't think, but that was the only other man on the ship that Luke had had real contact with. Again, he kept silent.

The prophet with the lazy eye rolled his head as though trying to get a crick out of his neck.

"Personally... I think it's a load of shit." He said. Luke kept his eyes focused on the Prophet's face – he certainly looked unimpressed, but Luke couldn't read the exact type of dispassion. If it was boredom, resignation, or something else.

So, with nothing else to go on, Luke went with the best response he could think.

"What is?" He asked. The prophet tilted his head the other way, his lazy eye finally focusing on Luke – was that on purpose, or just a coincidence?

"That you really think that. I think you're just bullshitting."

Luke sighed and shrugged.

"Whether you believe that I really believe what I do is up to you. I won't argue with that." It was all he could say – insisting that it was his honest belief wouldn't help, and it was the least he could do, given that he'd let Gornash at least choose to not believe him.

The lazy-eyed man snorted, almost amused.

Almost.

"He wasn't kidding – you really do mean it." And astonished. Luke tried to tell himself that he shouldn't be surprised that these men thought so poorly of him that even the most basic decency was considered awe-inspiring, "Unless you're just so full of shit that you just think you do."

Again, Luke just shrugged.

The lazy-eyed prophet kept tipping his head from side to side. There was a frown burrowing its way into his forehead that Luke assumed meant he was trying to understand, but couldn't quite wrap his head around it. But, of course, that wasn't Luke's place to judge. He closed his eyes and waited for whatever the prophet decided to do.

"Here." Luke heard a thud and a clang against the floor and realized, the moment a solid chunk of metal rolled into his knee that the prophet had tossed Luke his lightsaber. Cautiously, Luke reached out and picked it up, only to be very surprised when he looked up and saw the prophet casually strolling into the cell and appropriating himself on the cot extension from the wall, "Just do me a favor and don't lock the door when you leave."

Luke took this as an invitation to stand, albeit shakily. He glanced back over his shoulder, only to see that the prophet had pulled his hood down over his eyes.

"Is there anyway I can be sure of that?" He asked. After all, this was a cell – Luke more or less assumed they couldn't be opened from the inside.

"They don't lock automatically." Was all the prophet said before Luke heard him start to snore. More than a little perplexed – but not at all ungrateful – Luke cautiously crept his way out, stretching out an probing into the Force for any guards or any of the other prophets. The corridor was excruciatingly empty, and when Luke had found his way into a chamber on the end, he found himself doubling over and almost choking at the smell in the air – like something had died and rotted away in this room.

Then, by that logic, this place was probably...

No, Luke told himself, don't think like that. Focus. He made himself breathe, even with the stench in the air. Made himself calm. At peace. One with the Force...

_Like all the people who'd lost their lives today..._

Later. There was nothing he could do for them now, but regret it – that had to wait. Now, he had to focus on whoever was still alive. He could feel the approaching ships – allies... but more familiar... warmer... they were reaching out to him.

Luke reached back.

_Leia._

He could feel her responding – it was enough to, at the very least, give him a little hope. He tugged, wishing he could simultaneously keep his sister and his friends out of harm's way, but knowing he wasn't able to handle this alone.

There was a shuffling noise, like something very heavy and solid dragging on the floor. Luke opened his eyes again and saw one of the other doors open. Standing in the doorway was the very short, very heavy prophet with the beady eyes. Sticking out of the corner of his mouth, between the bristles of beard was something that looked a disturbing amount like a bone. One of his hands held a piece of red, dripping meat that seemed to be inexplicably disappearing into his palm with each second.

Luke straightened and watched the prophet with unease. He could guess that he might find SOME neutral prophets among those who were still here – but what good would it do him if this wasn't one of them?

The prophet stared at him for a long, long moment, as though perplexed by what he saw.

"You're not supposed to be outta that cell." He finally said, teeth crunching around the bone hanging from his mouth. Luke said nothing, still watching apprehensively. He felt no malice from this man – actually, there was an incredible lack of real malevolence on the ship – but Luke could sense distress, strain, and confusion. He could also tell that none of the men on board this ship trusted him.

Anything he said would just do more harm than good, at least at this point.

The prophet finally finished chewing on the bone, and his hands were suddenly free of the meat they had been holding.

"Guess I should try and stop you or something..." He mumbled. Just like the lazy-eyed prophet, he didn't sound terribly enthusiastic. If anything, he sounded hesitant. Why, Luke couldn't think of any reasons – aside from the ones he would give, but it wasn't his place to make judgement calls for these complete strangers.

"I won't fight you if we can avoid it." He offered, cautiously. The prophet nodded.

"Yeah... you've got a good reputation of THAT." Luke couldn't tell if that was supposed to be sarcastic, or not. The prophet continued to blink, still with that baffled look on his face, "...Why not, by the way?"

Luke blinked. He could feel Leia drawing closer. Maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't need to fight...

"For one thing, it would spare us both some time and trouble." Luke kept his voice even. There was a tiny voice in the back of his head arguing that he was wasting time arguing with this fat freak – a voice that Luke found the rest of himself kicking, and not just for it's reckless and impatient attitude.

"I could just eat you." The prophet pointed out. Given that Luke distinctly remembered seeing this very man chew off mouthfuls of X-Wing hull like it was softened food paste, he wasn't going to argue.

"Unfortunately, I have other people waiting for me to come back, safely. For their sake, I won't be letting you have my life so easily." He gestured with the lightsaber he'd been given back. It probably would have been wiser to first check if it would still function, but now wasn't the time to worry about that.

"Right. Comrades." The pudgy prophet muttered. Luke didn't frown and gently corrected him,

"Friends. And my sister. And my apprentice." The prophet squirmed, a little, "The boy you captured with me and tortured." Squirming even more, now, "I will fight you with intent to kill... but only if you try to harm me. I won't if I don't have to."

The prophet had started chewing on the end of one of his round, flabby fingers.

"...You just said it yourself – we tortured that kid." He said, as though trying to slowly put pieces of a puzzle, together. Luke nodded, "...And I'll bet you know what else we've been doing."

"I can guess." Luke admitted, not wanting to accuse, especially since the prophet before him sounded almost defensive.

"...But... you still don't want to FIGHT me?" The man spoke slowly, as though he couldn't process this concept. It made Luke hesitate, just before nodding – hesitate, really, because he couldn't fathom what was going through this man's head, nor the prophet before him whom was now napping in Luke's old cell, probably no more than they could understand him.

That was enough to make Luke wonder if he should be cautious for his own safety, or cautious out of kindness for these men. Really, how much was their behavior being directed by someone else – likely the short, slimy prophet whom had taken so much delight in interrogating Ken – and how much was genuine lunacy of their own volition?

The chubby prophet was still chewing on his fingertip.

"...You've got back up coming, don't you?" He finally asked. Luke didn't say nor do anything – at least, he was fairly sure he didn't – but maybe it showed on his face or in his posture, because the man standing in the doorway added, "A few ships, coming to rescue you and maybe take all of us out, while they're at it." A beat, "We picked up a set of signals headed towards us."

Luke sighed, just a little.

"If they know you're on board, would they try to rescue you, first? Or will they just blast us into oblivion and dedicate you as a martyr?" The prophet mumbled, "...Is what Kadann wondered."

Kadann – so that was the name of the prophet pulling the strings. Good to know. Luke didn't answer the question, directly.

"So, what do you think will happen?" Luke managed to ask. If the words this prophet had repeated just now were exactly how their leader had originally phrased the question, chances were this Kadann character was hoping – possibly even planning – on the forces coming to rescue Luke to simply blast the ship, destroying everyone in the process.

If Luke was right in considering that, he didn't want to think what that meant for how twisted Kadann's mind must be.

The chubby man continued to chew. Luke was actually starting to worry that he would see this man break through his flesh and start gnawing on bone, enemy or no.

"I dunno." That wasn't encouraging, but at least it wasn't complete defeatism. Luke thought, however briefly, if he should offer some sort of comfort or if he should keep silent, before the choice was taken out of his hands, "What'll you or those... friends... of yours do if you don't destroy this place?"

And everyone inside. Luke could hear him thinking of it.

"You'll probably be taken prisoner." Luke kept focusing on keeping his breathing even. Not just Leia, but he could feel the casual presence that he'd come to associate with Han and the Falcon, also drawing in closer. A matter of minutes, if that.

For whatever reason that Luke couldn't decipher, the prophet only thought for a moment or two before shuffling out of the doorway and sitting down with a heavy thump. Whatever the reason, it was plain that he was planning on letting Luke go. Trying not to appear too suspicious, Luke strode past, only stopped when the chubby man on the floor stretched out one of his thick, heavy-handed arms.

"I still don't buy it..." What, Luke wanted to ask, but the prophet continued, "...Why do you REALLY not want to fight any of us? Some crap about being a Jedi, or because it'd waste too much time, or it'd look bad if you did?"

This was actually enough to make Luke pause for a few seconds and turn and look the prophet – technically, one of his captors – squarely in the face. Those beady, unblinking eyes were fixed on him, almost like their owners were waiting for Luke to ignite his lightsaber or so much as twitch in the wrong way.

"Because you're a person. And people's lives shouldn't be thrown away or treated poorly."

* * *

The fascinating thing about this whole, long, bizarre nightmare – or hallucination, he still hadn't decided on that – was how incredibly detailed everything seemed, all of a sudden.

Ken watched the faces of the other three figures in the small, enclosed space of the lift – one was immensely short, another lumbered over Ken, and the third towered over all three of them. The shortest one had his eyes fixated on Ken, to the point that if Ken looked at him, every little line around his eyes – ones like neatly folded and pleated flimsiplast, and others like wrinkles in cloth that hadn't been pressed – stood out. There was a line of hair going down the man's square nose, and the hair lining his chin, around his lips and creeping up into his hood to hook around his ears seemed short and bristling, until Ken craned his neck and saw the way it layered, much more like fur than hair.

There was the tall man, with his nose that hooked just as it came off of his eyebrow. He also didn't have any wrinkles in his face – aside from the scars just under the outward corners of his eyes. That probably meant he was still very young. Ken wondered exactly how old he was, and what he was looking at – this man was staring off into the wall, as though he could see something that wasn't really there.

And then, Ken observed the man who seemed to put all of them in his shadow. He wasn't staring at something that wasn't there – no, he kept glancing between the short man and the tall man, glaring with each swivel of his eyeballs. If Ken had to guess, this was probably what suspicion looked like – the aggravation combined with an unwillingness to stop watching, lest the observer miss some vital clue in the others' body language or behavior.

How odd. Were they all friends, or was Ken standing in a lift with three enemies?

He'd have to ask Dee-Jay when he woke up – what kinds of things did people suspicious of each other do? Was it something allies did, or did it usually apply to enemies? And while he was at it, he'd have to look up some of these features – he could have sworn he'd seen some kind of file with people like the short man, with fur on their face, and he knew he recognized the tall man's especially distinctive hooked nose. But, where?

The doors to the lift opened. The short man smiled – Ken saw his teeth, tiny and oddly brittle-looking – and the wrinkles around his eyes lifted, transforming into deeper lines, and new ones, and old ones disappearing. The especially tall man promptly raised a hand and wrapped it around Ken's elbow, pulling him out, through the doors of the lift.

The moment he was outside, Ken found himself blinking, looking around at the surroundings – there were buildings in perfect, measured, metered symmetry on both sides, both seeming to be designed with the sole purpose of being hubs of information and data. He could see where they stopped, and he knew that the space they stood in was finite, but Ken couldn't help but feel like he was standing in the middle of something infinitely enormous and bigger than himself.

And, more than that, he could hear something – some buzzing, some clicking, something... something that felt so much more familiar than sounds he'd heard in recent memory. It was something that seemed to penetrate into his brain, like it was speaking directly to him – only to him.

Wait – he DID recognize this sound. This was what droids and computers sounded like – that sound which he'd been missing for the last few months, which had always felt as natural as hearing a pulse in his ears.

This was home. But... that would mean...

"...no..." Ken felt suddenly a combination of heaviness and weightlessness at the same moment – as though he were caught between two fields of gravity, his feet and innards being dragged relentlessly down and his head being suspended somewhere distant from the rest of his nervous system. He was dizzy.

"Move your feet, boy." The prophet with Ken's elbow in his grip yanked. Ken's feet felt solid and useless, and his legs didn't seem even capable of holding him upright – Ken felt his whole body travel in the direction he was jerked. He didn't care – he was staring at the buildings, buildings in the city that he'd seen, undoubtedly every day of his life, buildings that he knew by heart. Buildings that he'd hidden between when he was very small, buildings that he and Chip had chased each other to and from when he'd grown older, buildings whose mechanics and architecture had been a subject of fascination for him when he'd learned how computers and droids worked.

And he'd... he'd brought these men... these IMPERIAL men... these ENEMIES – EVIL, ROTTEN TO THE CORE, EVIL – he'd led them here, of his own, free will.

"...go..." Ken felt himself mumbling, but the rush of his own breath and the humming of droids and computers sounded so loud that he couldn't even be sure he'd hear anyone who spoke to him. The prophet dragging him said nothing and took no notice.

"...lem'go..." His throat felt dry – drier than he thought it ever could. Drier than virtually every surface in the city had to be, composed of computers and intolerant to moisture in the circuits as they were. Ken saw more buildings go past – there was the enormous dome that produced power for all of the separate buildings and computers to run on. Next, an assembly line of repair droids performing necessary maintenance on droids in need of repairs, upkeep, or in need of being disassembled to be put to better use.

_Dying is... being broken and not being able to be fixed again..._

How long ago had it been that he'd learned about that? And how long had it taken for him to understand? How long...

Ken tried to pull his arm back and opened his mouth to shout to be released, but his throat clogged and his stomach clenched and he found himself gagging on the words that he couldn't manage to say. It didn't matter – the prophet kept dragging him towards the destination of Kadann's choice. And it was a destination Ken knew, all too well – the rows of files, the outlets for data entry, and the master computer, with it's harddrive currently opened and wires extending from the modem, plugged into the circuits of the massive, pure white droid controlling the programming.

DJ-88's head swiveled on it's socket, the face that Ken knew and admired somehow seeming sad when Ken saw the glow in the droid's ruby eyes flicker, like a blinking mechanism.

And it was Ken's own doing that led to Dee-Jay just standing there, examining the three Prophets of the Dark Side – intruders, by all rights – who stood in the center of the library, as though it were their right to be there.

"...dee-jay... i..." Ken choked. What could he say? He'd thought it hadn't been real? They'd threatened Luke? They'd killed people for this, and would have kept killing even more?

"So, you are here, then." Dee-Jay said it as though he were logging an algorithm into the system, or reciting a bit of data. And then, he looked at Ken, and the unspoken question 'Why did you do this?' seemed to resonate in Ken's head.

"...i did not... mean..." Dee-Jay had been right, all along – Ken could see it, now, what he'd been too stupid and childish to get, just a few months ago. None of this would have happened if Ken had just shut up and stayed here – no above ground adventures, no daydreaming, just kept to his lessons and studies and waited until the right time. But, no – Ken HAD to be stubborn and just HAD to see the galaxy outside the city, and now...

And now...

"It is done, now. This was how it was always going to happen." Were the words Ken heard Dee-Jay intone, "This was inevitable."

Kadann smiled.

"This is a pleasant surprise – if you understand, then you surely won't object to our use of the files."

Inevitable. An adjective. It referred to an event that was certain, guaranteed to happen. It was fate. It was destiny. It was predetermined, unchallengeable, unavoidable, inescapable.

This... this, this, this... this THING... that Ken had done... was that really inevitable? How could it possibly be that way? But Dee-Jay had said it – plain and simple as every other truth he'd ever taught Ken. Dee-Jay always knew, Dee-Jay had always been right. Had this really been impossible to stop?

"You will do what you will. There is nothing that I could do without also violating my own programming." Dee-Jay simply replied. Ken felt sick and tiny and helpless – helpless against the prophets, and what they would do, and all because he'd been helpless to stop this.

The prophet with the green eyes had been staring at Ken this whole time. Ken could feel those eyes boring into him, penetrating into him like a saber blade into flesh. And he was helpless.

"Is there a mode that allows verbal commands and responses?" He asked, eyes shifting briefly to the master computer's screen.

There was. It was the first code command Ken had ever learned, in order to be able to use the computer before he'd learned how to read or fully write. And, if Dee-Jay really thought that he could do nothing to stop them...

The screen lit up. A computerized voice intoned,

"Awaiting command."

If Kadann had been pleased before, Ken heard his voice go up in what must have been absolute delight at this. There was a steady stream of requests – files on subjects that Ken had never even thought might exist, files on Jedi lore, and Sith alchemy, files on the internal workings of the Empire, and the organization of the Alliance. The computer recited off the contents of the files in a perfect, measured, automated voice, and Ken hadn't even known that any of it had been in the computer's system.

Helpless and useless. Ignorant and weak.

"And now... a file under the category of Sith Alchemy – open the file for the Resurrection Ritual."

Ken wasn't listening – he'd looked away and found himself staring into Dee-Jay's face. Still with the typical expression of a caretaker droid, eyes still glowing with the dim, red light, as though there were some deeper understanding hidden inside Dee-Jay that Ken couldn't possibly hope to reach. Dee-Jay looked right back into Ken's eyes – and was it just Ken's imagination, or was there real disappointment emanating from the old droid? Had there been a real hope that it wouldn't have come to this, and now Dee-Jay's reaction was simply resignation?

Had Ken really been that weak – even that Dee-Jay had known, even before this day?

He couldn't meet his old caretaker's gaze, anymore. Ken's eyes dropped to the floor as he tried, vainly, to think of something that wasn't a pathetic, childish excuse, for why he'd done this. He tried to find the right words for what they'd done to him, that he wanted to save Luke from, that he'd thought he could at least protect one person, even when he hadn't been able to do anything else. For that matter, Ken was trying to find his vocal chords, enough to even make a sound – that seemed to suddenly be an arduous labor, in and of itself.

"...dee-jay..." The next thing Ken knew, the whole world seemed to blur – he could barely tell what was happening, it all seemed to happen so fast. The best he could tell, it started when the tallest prophet turned and delivered a fist into Ken's solar plexus, sending him to his knees, coughing for some semblance of air. Over his head, Ken heard and felt the rush of a blaster – from what he knew of Dee-Jay, it might have been a miniature pistol hidden in one of his fingertips or a stingbeam concealed on his arm, anywhere. Whatever the case, when Ken looked up to see what had happened, the tall prophet had strode over to Dee-Jay and punched clean through the droid's chestplate with a bare hand.

Ken wanted to scream, but his body refused to obey his command for air, let alone any semblance of sound.

"Mister Jedgar, surely that wasn't necessary." Kadann scolded. He sounded earnestly displeased. Ken felt his arms shaking, so much that he couldn't even support his own upper body weight and felt his forehead connect with the floor.

"We don't need a droid to do this for us – we've got everything we need, now, right?" Jedgar snapped. Ken craned his neck, enough to raise his eyes and watch. From the odd angle his head was stuck in, all he could see were the feet of the three prophets, and Dee-Jay's form, wires still connected to the modems under his plating and the red eyes lightless.

"I suppose you have a point." Kadann sighed, "And, of course, the important part is we now have our own explanation of the Resurrection Ritual – it appears Lord Cronal left out some very key details, but that's of no consequence, given who we have as our vessel." Ken saw the feet of Kadann shuffle over towards him, until the miniscule prophet, himself, knelt and lifted Ken's face, under the chin, "And you have done quite well, my boy."

For reasons beyond his own comprehension, Ken felt words bubble up in his throat.

"i... will never... help you..." His tongue felt somehow non-existent, as though his whole mouth was empty and the words were being produced out of nothing at all. Kadann's response was to shake his head, as though disappointed.

"You don't understand – you already have." Kadann pointed out, his voice oily and soothing for such despicable words, "It is just as this unit mentioned, it was inevitable. It always has been. Frankly, I'm surprised it took this long, given that this sort of thing is in your blood."

In his blood? The words were, as Ken had come to learn over the past few months, what was known as a figure of speech. An idiom. A metaphor. It meant inherent, or an intrinsic part of one's nature. But what did Kadann mean by saying so? Ken felt his eyebrows dip, and in the same moment, Kadann's own bushy, furry brow raised.

"Dear child, you mean you don't know?" That sounded feigned – clearly, whatever Kadann knew, he also knew that Ken didn't know, "Surely, someone must have told you – this droid, Master Skywalker, maybe even the man himself... If not that, you must have had it figured out on your own, haven't you?"

Ken felt his brain start to click – like the gears and circuits in a computer – searching for any combination of scenarios that would fit all this information in a sensible way. Of course, there was one option that jumped immediately to the forefront of Ken's mind, one that would explain not only the question Kadann posed to him, but also the reactions of the prophets, the green-eyed man's inexplicably harsh hatred, and... and why Luke had...

"Perhaps I should be more clear what I am referring to – it involves the identity of your father." Kadann's face blurred – Ken didn't wonder why, as he was too occupied with trying to breathe, trying to think. It was impossible – he'd already considered the possibility and concluded that it couldn't be true. If it were true, then it raised so many other questions. If it were true... it would mean...

_This was inevitable..._

"The man who fathered you is sitting in one of the Alliance prisoner holds at this moment." Kadann's face came back into focus, only to blur again, as though Ken's head were being bobbed in and out of a tub of water.

"The living, surviving result of a cloning experiment, which had resulted in a genetic offspring of the Emperor, himself."

No... It wasn't true – Ken knew it. It couldn't be...

"You, my dear boy, are, by blood and by legal definition, the heir to the throne – the living descendant of the Empire."

This had always been inevitable.

Ken couldn't even speak. His ears were ringing and, echoing in that ring, he could hear the now-missing creature's laughter.

* * *

As far as Gornash could tell, Kadann was taking far too much pleasure in taunting the boy. He wasn't just taunting – Kadann seemed to be deliberately trying to see which words it would take to send their captive into a psychological regression or something else of the sort. It also didn't help that Kadann was taking great delight in pawing at the boy with every word he said. Honestly, it was a little hard to watch, it was so repulsive.

And Gornash knew all about repulsive displays, didn't he?

Instead of watching, Gornash turned his attention to the computer and pondered over it's supposed reputation to have a record of virtually everything in the galaxy there was to know. It seemed like a bit much.

"What are you thinking?" Demanded Jedgar. Gornash shot him a look out of the corner of one eye – if he were to think about it, Gornash guessed that he should have expected this. Jedgar hadn't liked him since day one of their association, and after Gornash's stunt with trying to help Skywalker – which was the same occasion that Gornash had gone out of his way to antagonize the other prophets, just because he could, out of spite – Jedgar's attitude had turned from one of dislike to a personal vendetta, even if it was over something as petty as a squabble.

"Just considering the limits of information the computer has to offer." He answered, keeping mostly to the truth of the statement, "If we're to use it properly, we should know the limits of this tool."

Jedgar sneered. Gornash could hear him beginning to formulate an argument, save for Kadann making a motion for Jedgar to come over and 'assist their guest to his feet'. And Gornash's job was to bring the computer.

Gornash watched the screen, still left on the images of the file for the Resurrection Ritual that Kadann had wanted. The text on the screen looked blurry and jumbled – the way all Basic did to Gornash, now that he thought about it. He silently cursed himself for never bothering to pay attention in school, thinking that if he was just going to work on his family's farm, what did he need to know how to read Basic, anyway?

If this computer had a file on everything... then, there was one way that he could test that, and simultaneously learn if Skywalker had been right about the boy...

"File on the History of Alderaan." He intoned to the computer. Maybe Jedgar and Kadann cared, maybe they didn't – Gornash didn't bother to check if they'd even noticed.

The computer's screen flared to life and images and text started to load.

"Alderaan: Second planet in the Alderaan system, Core Worlds. Grid coordinates M-10. Class: Terrestrial. Population: Mostly Humans and other Sentient Non-Humans, estimated around 2.3 billion at time of destruction by Imperial Death Star in Year 35:3 after Great ReSynchronization."

Without even noticing it, Gornash found his eyes widening as he was drawn closer to the screen. The boy had been telling him the truth. Why? Gornash couldn't understand why someone would want to do something like that... It could have been just to get to him, because he'd known it would hurt... but that was more what Kadann would do – and besides, if this boy had known, he also would have realized that telling the truth would only get himself...

He hadn't realized – hadn't known – because he'd been wrapped up within the Empire...

"_Your brother is in here."_

They'd taken... everything... away from him...

_the grass rubbing on his feet_

_a voice telling him how to push the seeds into the ground_

_the hand guiding his_

his parents... his home...

"_Left. Right. Right. Right. Left. Left. Right. Left."_

his people...

"_You filthy parasites."_

"_Stinking jewels."_

"_Why don't you go back to your own planet?"_

his life... even his name...

"_Prophet Gornash. That is your name, now."_

his brother...

"_Don't let me go..."_

now, this... this same entity that had destroyed his planet... had used him like the fool he was.

"_You can chose to let whatever happened to you shape you..."_

He'd told himself it was a lie – it had to be a lie – for his own, empty, selfish need to pretend he hadn't been used. He'd told himself that the boy had to be lying – lying like only someone of his blood could – and held to it.

"_...Or you can chose to be your own man."_

And that had made him...

"_I think you want to be a better person than this."_

Oh God, what had he DONE?

"_Stop it! Please! Stop!"_

What WAS he, now, but a filthy, wretched freak?

"Now, Mister Gornash, if you wouldn't mind – we really must be going."

All this time, he'd thought himself in the right – maybe not for the right reasons, but certainly doing what could be, in the end, justified – worrying about those around him being unclean, as though they would sully him.

In the end, it had been his own fault – he was the worst of them all.

"Mister Gornash."

"_I think you want to have control over who you are. I think you want to be a better person than this."_

But how was he supposed to have that control? How was he supposed to do that? Gornash stared up into the computer screen – still frozen on a holoimage of the planet Alderaan, as it had been in reality, a perfect, peaceful blue globe that could have been strung on a chord and hung about someone's throat as a gem – and he had the most sudden, terrible, wonderful idea of just how to do it.

In one fluid motion, Gornash shook out the lightsaber that had been up his sleeve, ignited it's sinful, envy-green blade, and sharply thrust it into the computer. In a matter of seconds, the controls sparked and melted and the screen cracked and flickered to black.

When Gornash turned around, Kadann was standing shock-still, mouth gaping open like a monstrous puncture wound – a priceless, almost comedic image that Gornash couldn't help but savor. Jedgar's expression had shifted from suspicion to outright gleeful accusation. The boy had even awoken from his funk enough to look mildly surprised – if nothing else, at the fact that Gornash had done ANYTHING, even if the specific act meant nothing.

He had been right about one thing – this boy was certainly not a real Human. And the blood of the Emperor certainly did run in his veins, so much so that it didn't surprise Gornash that he was so willingly throwing himself into a confrontation with Kadann and Jedgar for no apparent reason than because of this boy's utter control over him.

But he knew, now – he knew not to fight, but to embrace it. If this monster in Human form would rule him, he welcomed it with a smile. If it cost him his life, his sanity, even his soul, at least he would take the rest of them with him.

"Oops."

* * *

Somehow, Luke wasn't surprised to see not only the Falcon, but the X-Wings of the Rogue Squadron landed outside the ship. He also wanted to say he was surprised that the chubby prophet – he went by the name 'Tilus', apparently – had just let him walk off the ship without a fight, but he was glad he wasn't surprised. The Rogues quickly took charge of the Prophet's ship, finding two more men other than the two prophets whom had allowed Luke to escape. Additionally – and this made Luke feel incredibly sick for not realizing it – a few dozen extra people were found in separate holding cells.

Wedge had to make a call for backup – medical care and transports – while Luke watched, wondering why nobody was finding the discarded bodies of the other prisoners whom had been executed. What had been done with those bodies, anyway?

Leia had been the first one to find him, and her initial reaction was to grab him by the shoulders and pull him into a hug. Luke wouldn't deny it, he was a little grateful for the comfort. His sister was alright... unlike the others...

"We go to all this trouble to find you, and you turn out to be okay when we come and get you." Han muttered – his tone that of feigned irritation and bother. So, Luke could tell Han had been just as upset.

"Sorry I was so easy to rescue." Luke teased. Leia's grip on him loosened as she chuckled – he caught her cheeks flushing, as though embarrassed. Truth be told, he could understand – he'd never seen the proud, controlled Princess of the Rebellion lose her cool and panic like she had, just now. Luke relaxed, just enough, before returning to seriousness, "There are still three other prophets – and they took Ken with them."

He never saw Leia's expression change so quickly. Within a matter of seconds, it had swerved from a relieved seriousness to a tense – uncomfortable, even – seriousness.

"The runt? Where?" Han asked. He, at least, seemed ernestly concerned. Unlike Leia... but Luke couldn't scold his sister – not in front of Han, and not after she'd been so anxious about his own safety. That must be it – she'd just made sure he was safe, and here he was, announcing that he was going to go waltzing off into danger, again.

"I have an idea. How much closer could you get the Falcon if I gave you the right coordinates?" Luke asked. Han didn't even need to respond – Luke could hear Chewbacca howling from the cockpit, and the Falcon's engines grumbling to life, lifting them off the ground and moving.

"I'm gonna guess that you're thinking they were after the place you picked the kiddo up, right?" Han asked, adjusting the coordinates on the navicomputer. Luke blinked, simultaneously relieved that Han had just known, but utterly baffled to when Han – Han! – had learned how to just tell these things, "If we're talking about something an enemy commander might be interested in, an underground base right under the surface of the planet your own enemy is based on would be a pretty sweet deal, if you ask me."

Oh. That also made a good deal of sense.

"And, once we get there, what do you plan on doing?" Leia asked. Confused, Luke blinked at her, all the more caught off-guard by the glare she was shooting his way, "You'll be fighting against, as you said, three of the prophets who took the both of you prisoner. And, for all you know, they could have a trap set for you."

Luke didn't sense anything of that sort – all he had been able to feel was Ken, his confusion, desperation, fear, turmoil... but that was gone, now, as though...

Actually, that just made Luke all the more anxious to find Ken. Whatever had happened, the boy had cut himself off – or maybe he was just in shock, not even realizing what he was doing. Either way... Luke looked anywhere but his sister's face, eyes settling on a timepiece. It read the date as the same when Luke had set off on the sweep – they'd taken off at 600 hours, and the timepiece now read 1850 hours. Had it really only been a matter of hours? It had felt like days.

"I don't sense any traps waiting for me – the prophets who took Ken don't even know I'm coming." Luke offered, his tone placating. Instead of reassuring Leia, she scoffed with disgust.

"Did you sense whatever happened that ended in the two of you being captured?" She demanded. The words stung – and they were true enough – but what alarmed Luke was Leia's venomous tone. It almost sounded like she was looking for some excuse to keep Luke from going after Ken.

Luke met his sister's eyes. There was something in her gaze that seemed to burn – he didn't think he ever saw so much energy in her expression as he did at that moment.

"_We'll see how things go."_

But Leia was smarter than that – if she were taking this whole incident as some kind of proof that Ken was... Leia wouldn't be superstitious like that.

"I might not know, but I have to try, Leia."

Leia looked away. He could see her ears flushing red.

"You ALWAYS have to try." She muttered. If Luke didn't know her better, he would have called her tone of voice resentful.

Before Luke could say anything, the Falcon shuddered as it went in for a landing. More to avoid having to maintain the awkward silence, Luke crossed into the cockpit and looked out to see they were a matter of meters from the point Luke had suspected the prophets had taken Ken – the entrance to the Lost City of the Jedi.

His suspicions were confirmed when he reached the lift and found the controls jammed – they'd taken Ken down with them, and then blocked off the entrance and changed the codes. However he was going to get down there to save Ken, it was going to take time. Luke stretched back into the Force – still nothing, at least not from the four people in the City. He couldn't even sense their presences, almost as though...

"_You don't GET it, do you?"_

Luke forced himself to be calm. The prophets needed Ken alive – at least, alive enough – for this ritual they were planning to work. Whether it was real or not, Luke didn't know, but the important thing was that Ken would at least be alive.

But what if they decided to give up? What if they decided Ken was too much trouble? Too much hassle to maintain?

No, he wasn't thinking that way – he was focusing, he was calm...

And he still had no idea how to reset the controls for the lift. The Force was rarely a help in cases like this...

A faint whistling sounded behind Luke, almost making him jump. When he looked over his shoulder, Leia was standing behind him with a battered, charred R2-D2. The little droid's sensor light was faintly glowing a flickering blue and it's normal hyperactive whistling and beeping was quiet and indistinct.

"Artoo..." Luke mumbled, realizing with a nasty jolt in his stomach, that he'd almost forgotten a loyal droid in the wreckage. The astromech unit let out a series of beeps before shakily rolling into the covered landing. Luke heard a clattering inside Artoo's compartments, as though it were trying to open one of it's side slots. Luke considered for a moment, before he reached over and pried open the door over Artoo's scomp arm. With a whistle that Luke swore was sorrowfully fatalistic, Artoo started to hack into the computer controlling the lift. Luke put one hand on the droid's dome, feeling something akin to compassion – even shame for his own shortcomings – at the sight.

"Luke, this is stupid." Leia finally spoke up, making Luke turn around and gape at her. The burning look was back in her eyes.

"Leia." He gasped.

"You have no idea what you're walking into – if you'll be able to fight them, if they're waiting for you, if and how they're armed. The way you came back after Endor was bad enough and you'll have three of them to fight, now."

Luke hadn't had a chance to tell his sister that the prophets weren't really Force-sensitive. Still, he doubted that telling her that fact would change her outlook on the situation – he had the faintest idea that Leia wasn't actually speaking out of worry.

"They have Ken with them." Luke tried to consider a way to phrase his worry about Ken's possible danger that wouldn't sound paranoid.

"Stay up here – we can plan an ambush. They can't stay down there, forever." She argued, "It would be smarter than putting yourself in harm's way..."

"They might use Ken as a hostage." Luke argued. If they hadn't already done something else even worse...

If they had, it would be just another failure... one more person he'd failed to protect.

"This is war, Commander Skywalker." It sounded so wholly unlike anything that Leia might have ever said that Luke snapped up and stared at her, "Casualties are inevitable, however unfortunate."

"Leia!" He scolded. Leia's face was hardened and cold – almost as hard and cold as Triclops' face, when he'd resigned himself to watching his own son perish, "He's a kid, and I'm responsible for him."

"_There can only be... one future..."_

Ken was his apprentice. And he couldn't abandon his apprentice. He wouldn't.

Leia didn't respond to that. Within a matter of minutes, the lift had arrived and stopped in the tube. All Luke had to do was step in and go down. He could feel Leia's scowl focused on his back, and didn't turn back to meet it.

"Artoo, any extra cover you can give me, I could use it." Luke said, calmly. Artoo faintly whistled back. That was all the reassurance Luke needed before the door to the lift slid shut and he felt it slide down. Luke felt his stomach clench – inside the lift, he could have been well and truly trapped, and it made him feel very much like he was, indeed, trapped.

He couldn't help but think that Leia had been right about that much – he had no plan, no idea what was waiting for him, no idea how he was going to...

Somehow, the ride down through the lift was simultaneously too long and too quick – Luke found himself on the ground level, inside the Lost City. Droids turned to watch him. It was unnerving – had there been absolutely no resistance against the prophets' arrival? No, that was foolish – these were droids programmed for information cataloguing, not security.

There had always been weak security. Looking back on it, Luke supposed this whole outcome would have been predictable. But this wasn't time to think about that – Luke darted between the buildings, looking between the structures for any sign of Human occupation, for any sign of where they'd gone. There was no real sign of disturbance, but on the other hand...

Luke tried to calm himself, reaching into the Force, feeling for something – anything...

That's when he felt it... from the main building, the Library. Something was there – he couldn't tell what, but it obviously was different from the computers and droids. If anything, he could at least sense the presences were living beings.

That's where they had to be. As quickly and stealthily as he could, Luke crept up and braced himself against the entrance to the library – inside, he could hear voices. The voices of the prophet with the green eyes, and the two whom had been orchestrating the whole affair.

"And what do you plan on us DOING?" That was the voice of Kadann – except it was high and squeaking with panic, rather than the low and oily smooth of when he was calm and persuasive, "Now, we have no way of bargaining for what we need."

Luke wondered if he should chance looking around the corner, but again, wasn't sure what exactly was happening.

"I knew it! This is some attempt at a coup – you thought you could fool me..." And that was the voice of Jedgar. It sounded unnaturally breathless.

And then, Luke heard someone laughing. It was the green-eyed prophet's voice – Gornash, that was what he claimed his alias was, but since he'd been explicitly clear that it wasn't his real name, Luke couldn't bring himself to think of the man on those terms – but, just like the other two, his voice was strange, unsettled. His laugh came out hitched, strained... not wholly... lucid.

"I want nothing of the sort..." He whispered. Even that sounded odd – like a different person, altogether. Luke wondered, just for a moment, if he'd identified the wrong voice, "...Power... influence... all of it..."

Luke gripped the handle of his lightsaber and cautiously peered around the edge of the doorway. All that he could see was the prophet speaking – and his assessment of the man not being entirely in his right mind was clearly not too far off the mark. The prophet with the green eyes was steady, but his shoulders were hunched and his hair fell over his face. All he could see of the man's face was his grin – crooked and wild.

But, from the narrow perspective Luke could glimpse, he couldn't see any sign of the other two prophets or Ken. For all he knew, Ken might not even be there...

"You..." Jedgar's voice snarled.

"What can we do..." The envy-eyed mumbled and when Luke looked back around the corner, he could see the man holding an activated lightsaber – the blade greener than anything Luke could ever recall seeing. And he was starting to stagger. Luke hefted his own lightsaber – he couldn't feel anything from the prophet, so he kept his eye on them. The prophet's grip on his lightsaber steadied, "...We can all... right here... right now..."

Before anyone else could move, or even speak, the lights throughout the City went out and everything went dark.

Luke's lightsaber was activated within a minute. When he rounded the corner, he saw another lightsaber glowing in the gloom – dark purple – clashing with the vivid green blade.

"I knew it! This was all..." Luke recognized Jedgar's voice, only to hear it interrupted by Kadann's,

"Who is that? Show yourself!" Oh. They could see his lightsaber, but didn't know it was him, holding it. The purple blade came swinging around, only to suddenly drop as the other green lightsaber came slicing down. Jedgar let out a sharp cry.

"You traitor! I'll kill you – if it's the last thing I do, I'll..."

"Stop it, both of you – whatever's gone wrong, we need to fix this, n-" Kadann was cut off with a harsh grunt. A crash came from the other side of the room, along with a shower of sparks and the crackling of glass and razor-fine metal, before Luke felt a hand easily the size of his head close around his arm.

"And you, whoever you are..." Jedgar's voice growled. Luke swung his blade around, enough that he was certain it caught the man's arm. But it was blocked, somehow, by something.

"You'll kill me, will you?" The green-eyed prophet's voice cackled, the envy-colored blade swinging around to hook under what must have been Jedgar's chin, "I'd like to see you try – the Mines couldn't do me in."

Luke hoisted his lightsaber. It's glow illuminated the face of the younger prophet – just enough that Luke could see the deranged sneer lighting his eyes. Jedgar's head swung around and Luke found his arm free, again.

"I will! I swear I will, you... YOU FILTHY JEWEL! I'll eradicate you like the vermin you are!"

The only thing Luke heard in response was a sarcastic sneer,

"_Mazal tov_."

Pulling away from the skirmish, Luke stumbled about the room, only holding his lightsaber aloft to see the little bit he could, surrounding him. He could see the remains of a computer, which had seemingly exploded through some kind of force, and then a droid, slouched against the wall with a hole punched through it's chestplate and leaving the internal circuits sparking and sputtering.

"Ken!" Luke called, not seeing the boy anywhere. What had they done with him?

Luke heard no response – not from Ken, anyway.

"That's – Skywalker, you..." Jedgar was once again interrupted when Luke heard the green-eyed prophet's voice. As it cut through the darkness, it seemed more potent than ever, even if the words came out hissing.

"I think you need to be more concerned about me, right now." Jedgar's voice made a harsh, wrenching noise, "Skywalker, take the boy and run."

Luke didn't need to be told twice – though he switched off his lightsaber and tried one last time to reach Ken through the Force. This time, he was met with a clear, screaming touch when he felt for the boy, more than enough to draw Luke to him, for his hand to wrap around what he assumed was Ken's elbow, and for Luke to draw Ken to his feet and start a stumbling, hasty run for the exit. It hadn't just been the lights that kept the cavern lit – all power had been shut down, from the computers that had kept the functions monitored to any number of droids. There weren't even any emergency lights to illuminate the cavern and Luke found himself running his hand along the wall to keep himself on course.

Ken, of all things that Luke would have thought, was so singularly silent that Luke found the boy's hand, if only to be ensured that it was Ken was was tugging along.

"Ken, just keep moving. Don't stop. Don't look back." He heard himself whispering, "We'll be out in a few minutes. We'll be okay." Who he was reassuring was less clear.

Ken didn't say anything in response. He just silently followed behind Luke, and even then, only at the pace Luke could pulling him along at.

It was a relief for Luke's already frantic mind to see the lift compartment still lit up on the inside – whatever the City's power source had been, it was separate from the lift's. Also a great relief was when Luke locked the door and pressed the button for the lift to return to the surface, it did so. Why the power was still out inside the City, Luke couldn't guess, nor could he think how it was possible to keep the power supply for the City separate from the lift. But that wasn't the point, he told himself, before turning his attention to Ken.

And, honestly, Luke found himself struck rather speechless at what he saw.

He'd known – both from Triclops' information, and from what he'd sensed in the Force – that Ken had been through torture. Horrifically so, he'd even understood. But to see the boy like this... he stood with his back resting against the wall, those skinny arms and legs of his poking out of a gray fabriplast smock. All up and down his skin, Luke could see little raised scars, all at regular intervals along his veins and bones. One of the prophets had even scalped him, bald and – Luke felt his stomach twist – the prophet with the green eyes hadn't been lying about the brand. It sat on Ken's left temple, bright red and blackened in the center, and with puffy, puss-yellow edges around it.

But what really made Luke feel ill was Ken's face – apart from the burn wound, his face had been untouched, yet it looked so hollow and thin that Luke almost didn't recognize Ken. His eyes were sunken into their sockets, the skin around them ringed and red, and his cheeks looked as though they'd collapsed inward. It was the kind of change one saw on people who'd been imprisoned for weeks or months, not a matter of hours – had it really not even been a full day, yet?

Luke raised a hand, uncertainly, before letting it drop back to his side. Ken's eyes flickered towards him, as though the boy couldn't even control his muscles enough to maintain a line of sight.

"...the emperor..." Ken finally muttered. Even his voice sounded beaten – hoarse and quiet, as though it had been run through the gears of a machine. Luke's stomach clenched.

"...Ken..." He tried to find words, but in the end, just went silent. Ken didn't even seem to notice.

"...that's what they wanted... they were going to use me to bring back the emperor..." Ken wasn't shaking – no, Luke told himself, that was just the vibration of the lift compartment as it moved. That's why Ken started to slide down, until his legs had completely slipped out from under him, "...because they needed someone who was descended from the emperor... someone related to the emperor by heritage..."

Something stabbed at the knot in Luke's gut, something that was simultaneously white hot and icy cold. Ken knew, now. Not only that, Ken knew, and had been told at the worst possible moment... he'd learned it from the worst possible source.

Why hadn't Luke TOLD him? Why couldn't he have told him sooner? Given him a hint, a clue... anything?

Ken was staring at the opposite side of the wall, as though he couldn't even see Luke.

"...this was all my fault..." The words were familiar, especially coming from Ken. Luke dropped down to his knees, enough to be at eye level with Ken, "...if i had never come to the surface... if i had never been here... those people... the crash... the computers... dee-jay..." Ken's voice hitched, starting to climb into hysteria.

"Ken." Luke steadied his voice. And himself, putting both hands on the wall on either side of Ken's head – if he hadn't, Luke probably would have fallen over, himself, "This is not your fault. What happened today was the result of other people doing something wrong – you couldn't have stopped them from capturing us, or harming those other people, or..." Luke couldn't bring himself to say it, "It was beyond your control." There was silence, just for a moment. Ken's lack of response just made the churning in Luke's stomach seem to crawl higher, as though it were gnawing it's way up, through his torso, "It wasn't your fault."

"it was inevitable." Ken whispered. These were just the words Luke had been hoping and praying that Ken wouldn't say, "this was my destiny... this was all... always... because i was from the dark side... this whole time..."

"No, Ken!" The words came out harsher than Luke had intended them to. The boy blinked. Luke couldn't tell if he'd really heard Luke or not, "Ken, look at me!" He nudged Ken's chin with the tips of his right hand's fingers, until the boy's eyes met with his. Even then, they remained unfocused, "That's not true – you're no more a part of the Dark Side than I am. Who your parents were or who their parents were before them has nothing to do with who YOU are. And I know you – you're just Ken. You're not the Emperor, no more than I am Darth Vader. Don't ever believe that you are..." Ken's eyes had started to focus – a little bit of the tension inside Luke's chest started to lessen, "...Please. Believe me."

Ken stared into Luke's eyes for a long, quiet moment – long enough that Luke started to hope that he'd gotten through to the boy. Long enough that, when Ken finally did speak, it split Luke's heart in half.

"...But... you're different." His voice was deathly calm, as though he were making a sound, logical point in a debate. It wasn't the words, but the absolute, cold certainty with which Ken said them.

Luke opened his mouth to argue, but Ken continued to talk, his voice steadily climbing in pitch and volume.

"You're a Jedi Master – the only Jedi left in the galaxy – the Force is strong with you. I have neither your strength, your ability, I've only brought trouble and misery to the people who I meet... People are DEAD because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time! People have been KILLED – KILLED BECAUSE SOMEBODY WAS CHASING AFTER ME, BECAUSE THEY WERE TRYING TO PROTECT ME! I should not BE here – I should NEVER have been here! I SHOULD have..." Ken's fingers started to pull at the skin on his face – Luke hadn't noticed, but two of his fingers were missing their nails, as though someone had pulled them out by their roots, and all the rest had been cut impossibly deep into the beds. Were it not for that, Ken would have been clawing at the skin on his head.

Luke firmly grasped the boy by his shoulders, intent on talking him out of this nonsense. He was prevented from doing so when he felt something press on his chest – nothing physical, but a push in the Force that sent him hurling against the opposite wall.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

When he righted himself, Ken had curled up, head between his knees and hands on the back of his neck. It was the same position that Ken had retracted into each and every time Luke had seen something go wrong – every time there had been something Ken blamed himself for. Only this time, Luke realized as he reached out into the Force and tried to calm the boy... this time, Ken recoiled at even the lightest touch Luke tried to project. It was as though something else had latched onto him, and no matter what Luke said or did, it wouldn't let go, wouldn't give the boy even a moment of peace.

And there was nothing Luke could do to help him.

The thought made Luke wish he could cry.

Instead, heart heavy, Luke cautiously extended a hand and concentrated into the Force – concentrated, not on calming Ken's mind, but clouding it, stilling his thoughts, gently pressing a drowsy heaviness on the boy until Luke saw Ken's hands slide off his head and his body posture relax. It might not make anything better, but at least a little sleep would give the boy a little peace. Luke hoped – he'd never tried such a thing before, he didn't even know how long it would keep Ken asleep.

Careful not to cause any more harm than Ken had already suffered, Luke gathered the boy into his arms as though he were a much smaller child, then hefted himself to his feet.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, hearing no reply but the steady rush of the lift rising back to the surface, around him.

A/N: I! Have! Finished! This chapter! Hurrah! I have NOT finished a chapter for In My Blood, nor the story I was writing for NaNoWriMo, nor have I even started on any of my homework. Hurroo...

I also just noticed, but the summary/description of this fic sounds rather... optimistic. Should I change that, do any of you think?


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